#I also have a really angsty take which is people will think for some reason that trent outed colin

[diminuel]

Ace confessing he was thinking about using Edward hit me hard in the feels because yeah, that is on one hand funny and on the other angsty:

🔥: Nearly used your name, glad that I didn't now because that's embarrassing.

WB: no no, please feel free to use it, you're my son now, we can tell everyone Rocks was you being a rebelling teenager

🔥: 😦

But on the other hand I can see that revelation about Crocodile considering him at one point as a father/family bringing up guilt. When going with Rocks D. Crocodile, I headcanon that Whitebeard either assumed him dead and felt guilty about it, or that maybe Big Mom took him because she's big about family/that's a bloodline she would be interested in keeping. Either way, years later Crocodile hunts him down and confronts him about how he claims all these people as his children but abandoned him when he was a literal child that grew up with him, and they fight and Crocodile looses a hand due to that tho I think that would be either an accident or because of other circumstances surrounding the situation (I read a story once in which he lost his hand because he tied himself to something so he wouldn't drown but consequently killed the blood flow after leaving the Moby). Ace being on the Moby could maybe lead to him tentatively seeking out Croc again to see if they can finally reconcile or at least find some closure.

And yeah, Marineford is really weird when you get more information later on, like Sengoku is confirmed to have cared for Rosinante so it's weird that he should care that much about parentage with Ace. I think the WG basically forced the Marine's hand and ordered the public execution to eradicate the Roger bloodline and display their might while also hoping to get rid of WB. And they had to announce Ace's parentage because they needed a reason for this kind of spectacle, especially when we see who else just gets thrown into Impel Down, executions in the One Piece world seem kinda rare, either the criminals die before they're caught, they end up in Impel Down, or the WG just Buster Calls everything but executions by the Marines? Can't remember any besides Roger's and Ace's.

There's a lot of potential to give Crocodile a sad/ traumatic backstory when it gets to his loss to Whitebeard. I like pretty much everything! No idea what I'd go for (though in my Rocks D. Crocodile post I suggested that Crocodile reached out once for help but WB denied him - it would still fit in with Croc's potential rage that WB takes on everyone needing help, a home, a family. Everyone but him.)

And a Whitebeard and Crocodile reconciliation via Ace does sound very nice ;w;

Yeah, Marineford was a trap for WB and a display of their might but it seemed like a pretty foolish decision on the Marine's side because so many things could have gone wrong. And since it was broadcast - but only selectively (they conveniently cut out the parts of it that would show the marine's less than savory actions), they clearly wanted to tell a particular narrative. Still. Hmm. *squints at Sengoku*

[gottagobackintime]

Getting my Amsterdam thoughts out now before I’m proved wrong. I think that Trent and Colin are going to the gay club separately, or that Trent possibly happens to see Colin go into the club. They’re going to see each other in there and Colin’s going to panic and try and run away. Trent follows him outside and they talk. Someone, from the media or a fan takes pictures. I think it might be a fan who will post it on Twitter. We’ve already seen that happening and what happened after that. People talking about it and sharing it. Having a picture of him outside of a gay club would not only out Colin, it could also start a rumour that Colin and Trent are an item. The drama, the angst!

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

Top 15 Maiko moments

Since I made a Kataang list, and I think it's only fair I do it for Maiko too.

#15 - Casually leaning against each other during a meal (03x05)

I'm starting off the list with the neverending trend that is "Maiko being unbelievably clingy."

I just can't deal witht he fact that these two both have demonstrated some difficulty/discomfort when other people get too touchy with them - yet you leave them in a room together and these motherfuckers suddenly think they're siamese twins.

They're not even trying to be romantic, they just... naturally gravitated towards each other and stayed in that position because it's what feels familiar and comfortable for them.

I remind you guys that The Beach is the episode in which they are at the most incompatible, yet even that episode is visually showing us "These dumbasses are so in love they just naturally act like a couple without even meaning to."

#14 - "It'll be nice to Zuko again. Won't it, Mai?" & Baby Mai's crush on Baby Zuko (02x03 & 02x07)

I know, I know, I'm cheating with this one because they are two separete moments from two different episodes, but SUE ME, I couldn't pick a favorite between them, and I also didn't want to remove the previous moment from the list, and "Top 16" just doesn't doesn't feel right.

I just love the way Mai is acting all shy whenever she so much as looks at Zuko in "Zuko Alone", how she clearly WANTS to hang out with him but doesn't really know how to start a conversation with him and feels all awkward.

And then years later, in the middle of a mission, she's just... happy that she might see him again, even if it's not in the most ideal situation. It's cute and I love it when Mai is happy and showing some of the emotions that hide behind her apathy for seemingly everything and everyone.

#13 - Grumpy dumbasses at the party (03x05)

On this one, those two just skipped several years ahead and went straight to "Bickering like a couple that has been married for fourty years, are clearly about to fight, yet refuse to get any space because WHY would they want to be away from each other? What a strange notion!"

Seriously, I lost count of how many times my grandparents had that exact same conversation when they're feeling the need to be difficult, and that scene made me have the same reaction I always have during these moments:

They're annoyed at each other, yet they just... refuse to not to be near each other. And Mai's first instinct when she wants something is to tell Zuko to go get it for her, and he does because, once again, they just have no freaking clue how NOT to be a couple (and it took what, fifteen minutes for her to go check on him after their fight because she just doesn't know what the fuck she has to stay for if he's not around? That's a marriage if I've ever seen one).

Also Zuko's line of "That food was for my cranky girlfriend!" makes me laugh every time and it's actually so cute that he wants to spoil his girl even when they're both in a terrible mood.

#12 - First date/kiss (The Lost Adventures Comic)

This moment is just SO. FREAKING. ADORABLE.

The way we see a bit more of Mai's prankester side (girl was friends with Azula and Ty Lee for a reason) and how Zuko can't help but find it endearing, the way they blush and act all unsure of themselves after he touched her shoulder, how Zuko can't even look at her when he admits that he likes seeing her happy and enjoying herself, Mai basically admiting that for a while she did the equivalent of "Little boy pulling at a girl's hair because he likes her and can't deal with it", and then, of course, the kiss. It's all just great.

And I gotta love how this date only happened because Azula set it up because Zuko was acting all angsty and saying he wouldn't go back to the Fire Nation - so she reminds him that something, or rather someone, he REALLY wants wasn't going to be around much longer, and that boy just doesn't hesitate to take the bait.

Also Azula and Ty Lee were HILARIOUS while spying on them, and the irony that Azula is basically playing 3D chess with her brother's love life for her own benefit, only to then accidentally shoot herself in the foot by the events she set in motion is just too good.

I really wish we could have seen this in a flashback during the actual show. It's just not fair that this little gem is hidden away in a comic.

#11 - Mai covering Zuko's eyes (03x05)

Yet another silly, very quick moment that I'm likely the only one obsessing over, but I can't help it, I live for stuff like that. Zuko is on full rage mode for being on the island at all and thus Mai is getting very grumpy and annoyed at him... yet the second they witness the gross sight of Li and Lo in bathing suits, she just covers her boyfriend's eyes to spare him of the horror that is old people who ran out of fucks to give (and that is totally not their own fate when they're Li and Lo's age).

The inherent cuteness of their relationship seeping into every scene, even when they are not on their best moment, is just one of the things I love the most about this ship. If they're not "meant for each other" like some dumbasses insist, then how come they're so married?

Plus it was really funny, and I like it when things are funny. The more it makes me giggle, the higher it goes on the list XD

#10 - First on-screen kiss (03x01)

This moment had me SHOCKED the first time I watched the show. I already thought Mai's crush on Zuko was cute, and I knew the series could make them a couple eventually - but I did not expect them to get together in between seasons. 7-year-old me was like "WAIT, THAT'S ALLOWED?"

Also, I've always loved how that moment started. Zuko is staring dramatically into the horizon, being angsty and walking right into an existential crisis - and Mai just goes "No, we're not doing that." It's just so fucking funny.

And it's also the first exemple of these two being completely unable to keep their hands to themselves. Mai just hugs him, touches his scar, and kisses him, and Zuko, who had trouble even hugging Iroh back, just... lets her. Because he doesn't mind it one bit when she does it.

I just really like how Mai's default way of comforting Zuko is by offering physical affection. It's freaking adorable. Also their "first" kiss happening in a gloomy day, with dark clouds everywhere, yet they're off in their own little world, just happy to be in each other's arms, is "Maiko in a nutshell." Add in some emo music and it becomes the most mid 2000s AMV ever.

#09 - "I'm sorry, Mai" (03x10)

This scene is one that just drives me up the wall with how much I love it. It's such a short little moment, but it's so significant to their relationship. Zuko wants to continue enjoying the life he has at the Fire Nation. He wants all the comfort that comes with being a prince, the approval of his father, the security of knowing he'll always have roof over his head and will one day be Fire Lord - and wants to stay and be with his girlfriend because he LOVES her.

But he can't. Because he knows innocent people will suffer and die if he doesn't stop his father. So he has to leave behind everything he holds dear, including Mai. He can't even say goodbye in person, both because it hurts and because what if something goes wrong and he ends up captured? He can't risk it.

So he leaves her a letter and says aloud an honest apology that he knows she can't hear, because he just HAS to say that he never wanted this.

More importantly though:

That boy heard Azula's mocking comment in "The Avatar And The Fire Lord" and decided "You know what, maybe I should go see the royal painter and bring Mai along so we can have a portrait of us as a couple."

I just love them so much.

#08 - Confrontation at the Boiling Rock (03x15)

This is a BIG one. Mai is obviously pissed at him because of the way he broke up with her, and she cannot understand why the hell ZUKO, someone who has always been so deeply patriotic and a very proud prince is suddenly leaving everything behind to go help out a bunch of traitors.

Zuko stands his ground, and tries to make her understand - and then out of nowhere he just HAS to brag about how awesome she is when a guard offers to protect her. He simply not hesitate to basically say "Oh yeah, she could totally give me a hard time during a fight, ain't that great?" (Also the fact that the show never gave us a moment of them throwing knives together even though Zuko has a knife too is a CRIME).

But, of course, real life has to "ruin" the moment. Zuko sees an oportunity to go help his friends, and escapes the cell, locks the door - and then they just stare into each other's eyes, for what they know might be the last time.

Mai's confusion and rage. Zuko's resolve to do what's right no matter the cost. Just that certainty that, whatever they both decide to do now, it will be final. There's no turning back from this. If their relationship ends that day, it ends FOREVER.

It literally lasts just a few seconds, but it's intense and does such an amazing job of allowing the characters to communicate with each other, and the audience, on what they're feeling.

And it's also the perfect set up for:

#07 - "I love Zuko more than I fear you" (03x15)

Literally NO ONE saw this coming, not even Mai herself, and if you tell me you did I'm gonna call you a liar, because OH MY FUCKING GOD!

Everything went wrong, the good guys are about to get captured, the situation is hopeless... and then in comes Mai, risking it all and taking a huge leap of faith.

She doesn't fully get why Zuko is so sure joining the Avatar will be good for their nation. She doesn't know if that will work out like he hopes. But she trusts him, and allows him to go for it, because she knows HIM, knows all the pain he went through trying to be Ozai's perfect son, and if he wants to throw his "perfect" life away just to be the one actually in charge of it, goddammit, she's on board and will do the same.

She knows there's no way she escapes that place with Zuko, it's too late for that. But she can allow HIM to leave "safely", while she stays behind and faces Azula's wrath - and she doesn't care, because she knows there's NOTHING Azula can do to her that would ever hurt as much as living with the knowledge that she just stood by and watched the downfall of the person she loved the most, that she chose to submit to Azula yet again instead of being her own damn self at long last.

It's the proof of Mai's devotion for Zuko, the moment in which her life became her own again, it's one hell of a plot-twist, and leads to yet ANOTHER epic moment of characters staring at each other with daggers in their eyes (and hands), and it's fucking beautiful!

#06 - Fight and reconciliation by the fire (03x05)

I can't lie, I'm a sucker for characters hitting their breaking point, confronting each other, letting all their rage and pain out - and then one puts everything aside to show some vulnerability and care for the other.

Zuko has not been feeling great about himself, and is taking it out on his girlfriend. Mai is not perfect either, and can't see that even Zuko's more "clueless" actions like giving her a sea-shell that she obviously wouldn't like is just him genuinely trying to be nice to her despite his impulse to act like a jerk, because he CARES.

Zuko is feeling insecure, wants reassurance, but Mai doesn't notice, and so he starts feeling threatened by a guy she full on says might as well not exist in her eyes. It's bad, but it's yet more proof that he CARES.

She goes after him after their fight, they open up a bit, Mai reminds Zuko that his sad life doesn't excuse the way he's been acting and when she stands up for herself against AZULA it just makes Zuko go instant simp mode and try to act all smooth and pull her close with that "I like it when you express yourself" (I can never get over that - boy, I know you're a teenager on vacation with your hot girlfriend that looks so cute when she's mad, you two are not alone yet, keep it in your pants!)

And then it happens. Zuko just loses it, can't deny that he is feeling like he is betraying himself because he no longer knows right from wrong and that is freaking him out because, even when he is firmly on the wrong side, he had ALWAYS been sure of his convictions and what he stands for, but now everything is messy and he doesn't know what he should care for.

Cue Mai deciding to forgive him for his angry outburts, for the unfair accusations, for the general unpleasant atitute, and just give him a bit of the support she now sees he had been needing and wasn't getting. A simple, straight-forward "I care about you", and a kiss - which Zuko eagerly accepts, and he IMMEDIATELY just keeps holding her close, all the fighting forgotten because he still has one source of stability in his life, one person he can rely on to be by his side when he doesn't know what he is doing.

05 - Cuddles and dessert (03x09)

This is the point where it became borderline impossible for me to pick my favorites, and I'll probably regret the order a million times, but I gotta post this already.

I love this scene. I just genuinely adore it with all my heart. Them looking at each other all cute, smiling and unable to keep their hands to themselves, and Zuko just once again showing that he like spoiling his girl by asking a servent to bring something FOR THE LADY. Name literally one other character that has Zuko acting like that - YOU CAN'T! NOT EVEN WHEN HE WENT ON A CUTE DATE WITH SOMEONE ELSE!

The whole vibe is just so domestic and cosy. Literally the only thing that is missing is a cat purring next to them and it'd be my idea of heaven.

#04 - Supportive Mai (03x09)

Nightmares and daydreams really is THE Maiko episode. The fact Zuko goes to Mai's house for comfort and distraction when the meeting he thinks he's been excluded from is happening says a lot about how much she means to him (and for once her parents not being around is a good thing 👀), and then later he opens up to her about what bothered him about being Ozai's perfect son because he trusts her to be there for him. They've truly done some amazing progress after The Beach.

Mai's concern for him is just genuinely touching. Even when she doesn't know exactly what to say or do, she's still trying so hard because she doesn't like seeing Zuko truly down, and that is what made her his safe-space this entire episode.

#03 - "That gloomy girl that sighs a lot?" (03x14)

Look at that boy. LOOK. AT. THAT. BOY.

He is just so smitten and clearly missing her. He LIKES the traits that the fandom insist makes her "unlikeable", that led to characters making fun of her in universe, the coping mechanism she used to protect herself from being hurt by people like her parents - can't get hurt if you don't care.

And Zuko doesn't see it as something she needs to change in herself, something undesirable, something he puts up with. He likes what everyone insists is a flaw of hers, and will so even when being teased about it because he can relate to being moody and angsty and cranky and wouldn't judge her for it because she's the person that consistently likes that about him too.

#02 - "You're so beautiful when you hate the world" (03x02)

This was the moment that made them one of my favorite Avatar ships. These two just not giving a fuck if that they're being embarrassing and cringy and just judging the whole world together and being disgusted by everything except each other. Not only is it a funny, wholesome moment, it is THE most accurate portrayal of a teen romance I've ever seen in my life. Just two dumbasses being in love and saying whatever nonsense they want, and kind of relating to each other for it.

Also them just basically telling Azula to fuck off because they wanna keeping making out was amazing.

01 - Reunited at the end (03x21)

Once again. Look at that boy. Just you LOOK. AT. THAT. BOY.

AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

They're so cute. They're so happy. It's literally what their entire romantic arc in season three had been building up to and I'm forever greateful that the writers didn't rob us, and them, of it just because the fandom can't appreciate a good thing even as it stares them right in the face.

They're both finally on the same page, ready to support each other no matter what, with nothing and no one standing on their way, and allowing themselves to just enjoy their love. It's what they deserve.

[forever-rogue]

yayy now that ik you're open to write for joel, i propose smth angsty along the lines of "you came back for me" bc reader and joel got into a really big fight before getting separated. i just want the angstttt pls crush my heart tear it apart then put it back together by ending really fluffy plssss

AN | The inevitable has arrived - here we are foraying into Joel territory. Enjoy ❤️

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.4k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You’re really stupid sometimes,” it was an exasperated huff that had your hands on your hips as you looked at him. You didn’t mean it - not really anyway. Joel was probably one of the smartest and most resourceful people you’d ever met. He hung his head with a heavy sigh before turning back to you. His expression was entirely unamused, “so foolish and - and stubborn!”

This got a laugh out of him, a bark of unamused laughter but nonetheless. He crossed his arms over his chest, “I’m stubborn? Have you met yourself? You don’t get what you want and you act like a petulant child!”

“I am not,” you hissed, trying your best not to stomp your foot; you didn’t need to help prove his point any further. Maybe he was a little right…Joel often was. But you also felt like your point was right too. Even if this was the middle of a weird zombie apocalypse you were now living in, you should be able to take some time out for yourself. Especially now that you had a more stable living situation, “it’s always work this and work that with you. We should-”

“We should do what we need to in order to survive,” he cut you off, refusing to meet your eyes. He knew, begrudgingly, that you also weren’t entirely wrong, “that is the most important thing.”

“What about us-”

“There is no us,” he insisted and damn. Those four little words broke your heart more than anything. All this time spent together, getting to know each other both on a physical and emotional level meant nothing to him. You should have known. It was almost funny in a horrible way. The older man refused to look at you and you couldn’t help but think him a coward. Maybe he was right after all - maybe you were just a child, “get that in your head and let’s get this over with. We’re losing daylight.”

He took a few steps forward, dirt and gravel crunching under his boots. You shook your head, more to yourself than anything but didn’t follow him. When Joel didn’t hear your footsteps behind him, he turned around, “I’m not going with you.”

“C’mon,” he insisted, “don’t be like this. It’s dangerous for you to be out here by yourself.”

“Well, how am I ever going to learn to survive solely on my own if I’ve always got you or someone else leading the way?” He was correct in reasoning though. It wasn’t safe for anyone alone. It was also recommended that people go out in pairs for that reason, “just go on and I’ll find my own way back.”

“Stop acting like this,” but you just shook your head and took a step further back, “can you just listen to me for once?”

“Actually, Joel, for once it would be me not listening to you. So…you do whatever it is you need to do, do it. I’ll go back and patiently wait. Then you can come back and tell me what to do,” you offered him a sticky sweet smile before turning on your heel and heading back in the direction from which you came. You took off before Joel could say anything, biting your lip in order to keep from making any extra sounds or letting your tears fall down your cheeks. 

You heard him call after you, your name falling from his lips in an increasingly exasperated tone. You heard him come after you for a few moments, but eventually he stopped, his signature sigh falling from his lips. But eventually he moved on and you continued back towards Jackson. 

Realistically you’d just proved his point by acting in such a childish manner. But you didn’t care, not right now. He’d hurt you, and you didn’t even know if he’d meant to or knew the effect his words were having on you. 

“Dumb, stupid girl,” you groaned at yourself, “had to go and mess everything up. And now you’re going to get yourself lost.”

Admittedly, your sense of direction wasn’t the greatest. But the path you’d taken to get to this point, the point where you’d picked an argument with Joel, had been a fairly linear path. Surely you couldn’t fuck that up.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

And yet…you managed to fuck that right up. 

It was dark and you weren’t back to Jackson yet and you knew that was wrong. It shouldn't have taken so long to get back. You should have been back already. Somewhere along the line you had either taken a wrong turn or missed a turn but you found yourself wandering aimlessly. It was too quiet out here, not even sounds of nighttime creatures reaching your ears. If there were anything out there with you, they’d probably hear you in a heartbeat. You’d just have to hope that there wouldn’t be any runners or stalkers or worse - clickers. You were glad you’d remembered to stash an extra knife in your boot and still had the shotgun slung across your back. You’d never taken one on your own, but you figured you could manage. You were going to have to. 

But you just hoped that you wouldn’t come across everything. You’d just camp out in one of the abandoned buildings you’d found until daybreak and then make your way back. That seemed like the most logical and smart thing to do. 

You went to check the front door of the building and, naturally, it was locked. Luckily there was an open window nearby that you figured you could use to get in. Hopefully that was a good sign that nothing else was able to get in either. You jumped the little bit of distance that you needed in order to climb up, catching your hands on the window sill and pulling yourself up. You managed to get in, but suffered a less than graceful landing as you plopped on the ground. And…managed to roll your ankle in the process. 

“Fuck,” you cried, clutching at your ankle in pain as you tried to stifle your whimper. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you slowly sat up and tried to massage the pain in your ankle away, “shit, damn it. Fuck!”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you slapped a hand over it to try and keep any further sound at bay. You sat still, and listened for a few moments to make sure you didn’t hear anything. After a few tense, still minutes had passed, you relaxed; it didn’t seem like anything was there with you. 

Crawling towards the corner, you made yourself as small as possible, sitting with your back against the concrete wall, and hugging your knees to your chest. Anything to make yourself as small and unimposing as possible. It was probably a stupid idea to sleep, alone and vulnerable, but it had been a long day and you needed some rest. Your eyes grew heavier and heavier and before you knew it you had succumbed to sleep’s siren call.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time your eyes opened up, heavy and dry, it was the morning. Daylight was streaming inside the room and you let out a relieved, but shaky sigh. You’d made it through the night. That in and of itself was a good sign that you’d make it back. It was safer in the light and you might even meet someone from Jackson on the way back. 

As you tried to stand up, you quickly remembered what had happened. The stabbing pain your ankle causing you to yelp as you leaned against the wall, using it to help support yourself. Okay, okay, okay - this was going to be trickier than you thought but you’d be able to get yourself out of there. Your survival instinct was stronger than that.

But before you could do anything or plan anything else you heard it. It was your name being called out in the distance. Gooseflesh erupted all over your skin as you tried to pick out the voice. It came closer and closer and it didn’t take long to figure out who it was. Joel. It made your heart jump before you remembered what had happened. You could just - fuck it. You needed him to survive and while you were stubborn among a whole lot of other things, you were willing to put aside. 

“Joel!” you held onto the sill so tightly that your knuckles were turning white. You poked your head outside and looked around until you found him a short distance away, “Joel.”

He stopped at the sound of your voice, and you could see the evident relief that washed over his features. He jogged over to you, and you offered him a tentative, nervous little smile. He shook his head when he realized that you were safe, running a hand through his dark hair. Joel exhaled slowly before looking at you, a hard glint to his, “do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you rolled your eyes lightly.

“This isn’t a game,” his voice sounded between annoyed, worried, and relieved all at once. He reached over and gently touched your face, his hand resting on your cheek, “you thought you could just go off on your own and find your way back? You couldn’t even do that. I got back and you weren’t there. Do you even know what I thought? I-I…”

“I’m okay,” you promised, putting your hand on top of his and giving it what you hoped was a reassuring little squeeze. He wasn’t looking at you, instead looking up at the blue sky. It was almost funny in a way; if you looked up, staring into the bright blue sky, it almost seemed like nothing was wrong and the world was as it had always been, “look at me, please. Joel.”

“I thought something had happened,” he swallowed the lump in his throat as his eyes met yours. There was a hard edge to them, but they were still soft, “I thought I’d fucking lost you.”

“You came back,” you took his hand in yours, admiring the feeling of his calloused fingers against your surprisingly soft skin, “you came back for me.”

“Of course I did,” he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, “that was never a question. You should have just come with me and none of this would have happened. You stubborn, foolish girl.”

“You…” it all seemed so trivial and silly now. Now that he was back and had come for you, “I…’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just left. Not with my sense of direction.”

“I’m sorry too,” he admitted and you raised an eyebrow in surprise. That was not what you had been expecting to hear. Joel Miller was a hard man and he didn’t generally didn’t experience situations in which he had to apologize, “I shouldn’t have said the things I did.”

“I shouldn’t have just assumed that you and I were…anything,” your voice dropped as you tried to blink back the tears that threatened to well up, “it was stupid of me and ended up causing both a lot of trouble.”

“You are extremely important to me,” his voice was gentle when it broke the silence that had fallen over the two of you. You couldn’t help the small smile that ticked up the corners of your mouth, “even if I didn’t make it seem like it. We’ll…figure it out, okay? But I want you to know that…I…”

“I know,” you did know. You knew exactly what he was trying to convey, exactly what was going through his mind. It was the same thing you were still scared to say, “me too, Joel.”

He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, “c’mon. Let’s get you back home and we can…go from there.”

“There’s, um…just a small issue with that,” you put on a sheepish smile as Joel looked at you expectantly, “when I found this place last night - the door was locked. I didn’t want to make too much noise so I didn’t try to force it open. Instead, I climbed in through the window.”

“I can get you out of the window-”

“I hurt my ankle.”

“Of course you did.”

“Joel-”

“It’s always something with you,” he tutted at you, but there wasn’t any anger or malice behind the sound, “what am I going to do with you, huh?”

“Keep me around because I keep you on your toes?” you tried and he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. You looked at him with a gentle smile, “can you help get me out of here?”

“Of course,” he promised, “sprained or broken?”

“I dunno,” you looked at the swollen joint and grimaced, “I think just sprained. But I’m not a doctor so…”

“Kid,” affection laced the nickname that he liked to tease you with. He came closer to the window and held his arms out to you. You quickly wrapped your arms around him, letting him tug you closer to his body before he picked you up and swung you through the window. You thought he would set you down, but he didn’t. Instead he held to you his chest, “you’re okay. I’ve got you.”

“Thank you,” before you could stop yourself you kissed him tenderly on his scruffy cheek, “thank you for coming back for me.”

“I’ll always come back for you,” he promised and you knew he meant it, “always.”

“I know,” you hugged him tightly, “me too. I mean, if the situation were ever reversed. Which I doubt it would be, but you know, the sentiment is there.”

“I know, Kid,” you could feel the laughter vibrating in his chest, “I know."

[flamingpudding]

I have a new prompt idea and it's dark

So the Nightingale / Fentons are a pretty curse family and one of the curses is one where any Nightingale that tries to leave behind the family name will either greatly disappoint their family or Die because of being curious

It's a long curse starting all the way back to there great great great uncle Kingsley (Klarion) Nightingale because he was the sibling of the original Nightingale it started the The witch Hunt because he didn't get magic but Klarion he started killing which is one of them curses entire family not knowing that the rest of them were witches

Which cost to chain reaction to every Nightingale that tries to walk away from a family suffering a terrible fate like Thomas Fenton Nightingale who ran away and change his names in Thomas Wayne and was able to rebrand his entire but died with his wife after they got too curious of the Court Of Owls

Cursing his family for always being on the bad side of History cuz a few of his cousins were working with the court of owls

So when the original Nightingale started to finally pick off his family that was trying to run away from The Nightingales Kingsley was burned alive cursing the Nightingale Fenton name

Or Danny Fenton who died in the portal accident came back alive and disappointed his parents were setting with the ghost instead of hunting them

How this is all figured out is Constantine is checking over Batman for curses when he's like oh you have a family named curse and I like oh the lame one he's like no your father's real name he ends up finding out all of this information

Can you even affect Jason because he was adopted by Bruce making him technicality a nightingale and he died being mad at Bruce for not saving him and came back still cursing Bruce

So this could be a crack prompt or a really angsty one depending on how you view it because Batman is finding out that he's really into all of these people but he somewhat knows or realizing that he definitely affected all of his robins due to a family person to give no he actually had

Which continued

Interesting Idea... I like some of the premises... here and many ideas are really interesting!

> So i took a spin at this throughout several weeks. yes this has been sitting in my drafts for a long time and i added things slowly but in the end it still is a pretty short piece... sorry... writing really has been hard for me lately again...

Though I think i might have gone a little astray from what you originally had here though or didn't include it enough.

Hope you will still enjoy the following!

------------------

John Constantine sometimes really hated having to work with the Bat and not just because he was one of these spandex wearing goody two shoes heroes. Okay maybe goody two shoes was a stretch but Bats was one of the heroes that annoyed him still. There was also another reason. Something he had slightly noticed since the first time he had meet the man. But back then he had ignored it.

Like hell was he going to get involved more than necessary with the bat suit wearing hero.

Well with the passing years it more and more became something he couldn't ignore any more. Especially since whatever it was had a certain stink to it that John really hated right now. Not just because he was forced to sit in one of these many Boy Scout meetings because Zatana was busy. It tickled his mage senses, but not in a good way. No it was the way that really made him want to take a swing of his flask, he would take one if he wasn't running the risk of his flask getting taken away from him by one of these heroes.

"Yre fucking cursed to hell and back, mate." John decided to speak up instead anyway with a dead-stare at Batman and interrupting whatever else Sups was going on about. Okay so maybe in reconsideration, John should have waited until after the meeting to say anything at all, really. But in his defense, Batmans curse was stinking even more now. Like it had been freshly activated by something.

Great thing, whatever the meeting had been about before got completely forgotten as everyone focused on the fact that THE Batman apparently had managed to get cursed given his history with magic. Bad thing, Batman pressured John into investigating what kind of freaking curse stuck to Batman. And boy, can he say that explaining to Batman that he was stuck with a centuries old course that was pretty much affecting anyone he sees as family was not fun, nore was explaining that this wasn't a recent curse but one he had very much inherited from his father.

"Nightingale, the name ringing any bells Batsie? Curse is tied to that name apparently." Was what he ended is explanation with only to get a stoic stare and a grunt as answer. Sometimes John really wanted to wrangle that hero in particular.

"Can you trace it back?" John side eyed Sups who looked worriedly between him and Batman.

"Can you trace it back..." He repeated with a mocking mutter, who did they think he was? Of course John could trace it back, he wouldn't even need to sell his souls for the x-time to do that. Not like he would for Bats of all people, but then again, he had sold his souls for less before. "Of course I can trace it back, mate."

John took just a little bit of pleasure in the fact that he was in a position to demand something from Batman when he pestered the man for a bit of his hair or fingernail clippings to use as a medium to trace the origin back. It wasn't nice anymore when he traced it back to an area that was the magical equivalent of the Bermuda Triangle. Ground Zero. A No-Go. Do not Touch with a ten foot pole. The Do Not Enter of the magical world.

To say the heroes weren't impressed when they saw him taking a very needed swing from his flask was an understatement. Because seriously John needed a stronger Whiskey for this shit.

"What the hell do you have to do with Amity Park!?"

Danny meanwhile felt a shiver going down his spine, but he shock it off as he souped Skulker for the 3rd time this month. His eyes surveyed the area for a moment wondering what was going on before he once again choose to shrug it off. His legs turning into his ghostly tail as he flew back towards Fenton Works. Unaware of the storm brewing far away, while Clockwork was cackling in his tower contemplating if he should give his ghost child a heads up or not.

[roanofarcc]

THE OLD FASHIONED WAY

pairing. trevor lefkowtiz x alive!reader

summary. You had always regarded your ability to see ghosts as odd, until you met Sam and her eclectic group of ghosts.  

warnings. kind of/kind of not happy ending, ig? sad trevor :( angsty and a little flirty. reader gets stood up.

word count. 3.8K || masterlist

a/n. alive!reader HURTS but in the best way

trevor tag list. @marcos-scorpion , @youngdumbamericanteen

“I have one last, fun, interview question,” Sam said and you inwardly cringed. You had sat through so many job interviews that you knew a ‘fun’ question was normally anything but. Nevertheless, you smiled politely and nodded at her to continue asking. “What are your thoughts on ghosts?” 

You laughed, against your will. It was a reflexive response that you immediately regretted. “Sorry!” you rushed out. 

She didn’t seem put off by your laughing. “I know, it’s a ridiculous question. But the last guy that worked here…uh, this place may, potentially, be haunted. Not that I know, but there’s speculation. I just want to know how you feel about ghosts. Do you believe in them? Do you think it's all a bunch of mumbo-jumbo?” That was probably one of the oddest interview questions you’d ever been asked, but it was better than explaining how your weaknesses were really strengths. It also felt pointed. 

You didn’t know Sam and she didn’t know you, but the question made it sound like she knew your weird talent. And for some reason, you didn’t feel the embarrassment you normally did when someone brought up the concept of ghosts. There was something about Sam that compelled you to tell the truth, even against your better judgment. 

“Actually, that’s kind of a funny story-” you started, but were cut off.

“Samatha, when you are done, your assistance is needed in the television room. Someone believes it is his turn to watch another horrible film of space nonsense, but I distinctly recall it being my turn to watch those horrible women pick out whorish dresses for their weddings.” A woman appeared at the threshold of the entryway and the living room, dressed in a gown not from that century with her red locks pinned up in a curious updo. You were taken back, confused when your eyes fell on the man that stood beside her, dressed formally on top but lacking anything but socks and shoes on his bottom half. 

“First of all, Star Wars is not ‘space nonsense’ it's one of the biggest movies, like, ever,” the man started. “And second of all, you just got to watch your pick two days ago.” 

Sam cleared her throat, ignoring the two with a tight-lipped smile. You looked between the two, which seemed to confuse them. “I’m so sorry, will you excuse me for one second? I’ve got to take care of something really fast.” 

“Yeah, of course. Take your time. I don’t mess around when it comes to Star Wars either,” you said. 

The two people overlapped in with a ‘what?’ and an ‘excuse me?’ Sam stared at you wide-eyed, mouth slightly agape as she looked between the two figures behind her and you. “Hold on, can you see them?” 

It took a moment for you to understand why that was odd, which was too long if you were being honest. Obviously, no one was walking around in a gown like that or pantsless for no reason. You weren’t looking at cooky guests, but rather ghosts. Did nowhere not have any spirits lingering? It seemed like every job you worked or applied to had ghosts haunting the building. Though, you supposed out of all of the places, it did make the most sense for the old mansion to be haunted. 

But Sam wasn’t a ghost, but she seemed to be able to at least hear the ones in the threshold. “Can you see them?” you asked. 

“Y-Yeah. I can.” 

“Me too.” You have been able to see ghosts since you were little. As a child, most of your friends were the collection of ghosts that inhabited your childhood home. You thought you’d eventually outgrown it, but you never did. Now, nearly everywhere you ventured, you encountered dead people. It was interesting, a little obnoxious at times, and often made you feel like a freak of nature. But the woman in front of you could see them too; that was a first. 

Sam sat speechless for a moment before she said, “You’re hired.” 

--

You weren’t sure what to expect, working in the haunted mansion. In your lifetime, you’d encountered just about every kind of ghost, so you prepared yourself for anything when Sam introduced you. The Woodstone ghosts were an eclectic bunch, comprised of ghosts spanning nearly every decade. They were interesting, to say the least. But even if they had ended up being terrible, you were just happy to be around someone who shared your ability to see them. 

Sam and Jay had set you up at the front desk, putting you in charge of checking in guests. And when it was slow, the Woodstone ghosts often found their way to you if Sam was busy. 

One ghost in particular liked to hang around you, Trevor. He was the definition of an overgrown frat brother, with a lazy smirk and incessant flirtatious attitude. Every time he sauntered up to the front desk, calling your name, you made a habit of rolling your eyes. 

“Good morning,” you greeted, tone flat as you clicked away on the computer. 

Trevor leaned against the desk, his gaze burning into the side of your face. “How you doin’?” he said, and you sighed. 

“Watching Friends again, I see?” 

He blew air from his cheeks, deflating just slightly. “I’m a little rusty, okay?” 

“Rusty? At what?” 

“This,” he pointed between you and him. “Flirting.” 

You laughed and shook your head. “Is that what’s happening?” 

“Well, yeah. My flirting with Sam is useless because she and Jay are annoyingly sweet together. But you…” Trevor trailed on, a smirk on his lips and a certain cocky attitude wrapped up in his voice. 

“I hate to burst your bubble, no-pants, but we’re not exactly… compatible.” 

He raised his brows. “Because I’m dead?” You winced slightly. You didn’t want to be the one to say it; some ghosts were really sensitive to that, but Trevor didn’t seem too bothered. He shrugged like he saw it as no big deal. “I see that as a minor roadblock.” 

As much as you wanted to roll your eyes once more and shut him down, you were impressed at his relentlessness. 

-- 

You thought after a couple of weeks of working at Woodstone, Trevor’s ploy to win you over would fade alongside his attention. But he started to hang around you even more than when you first started, and you two had created a weird but kind of nice rapport of his continued flirting, peppered with more authentic conversations sprinkled in. He told you stories of his college days and the assholes he befriended before they ended up killing him in that every house. You told him about your own school days and how you were currently floating through the motions of young adulthood, trying to figure things out. 

“Scoring a job here was nice,” you said, comfortably resting your elbows on the front desk as Trevor stood across from you, listening intently. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Sam and Jay are pretty cool.” He paused, toying with the end of his tie. “So, you think you’ll stick around?” 

A small smile fell across your lips. “I think so. Things are pretty interesting around here.” 

“Well, if you ever want them to be more interesting, let me know.”

“Oh, yeah?” you asked, raising your brows. 

“Oh yeah. I could rile up the basement ghosts, convince Thor minivans are enemy warships, you name it.” 

You laughed, shaking your head. “You are something else.” 

“Careful,” he teased. “That almost sounded like a compliment.” 

“It was supposed to,” you replied, not missing a beat. 

Trevor’s eyes widened just slightly, the smirk wiped right off his face and was replaced by something that resembled confusion with a slight fluster. Clearing his throat, he managed to say, “Oh.” You didn’t know ghosts could blush until that moment, even with their lack of blood, because Trevor’s cheeks tinted a light shade of pink as he made up some excuse to leave, mumbling something about helping Sass before he hurried away. 

You chuckled, resuming your work as another guest popped in. 

--

To say your dating life was pathetic would be a polite understatement. It was almost nonexistent, which is why when an attractive-looking person popped up on the dating app you forced yourself to get, you got your hopes up a little too high. Sam had encouraged you to go out on a date with them, excitingly helping you get ready and everything. 

You had been excited, believing it was a fresh start for you. First a new job and then a new romantic interest. Unfortunately, after waiting at the restaurant, alone, for a solid hour, you realized your dating life had quickly circled back around to being pathetic. Embarrassment didn’t quite cover how you felt as you left the restaurant and headed back home to wallow. 

The following day at work, the second you stepped inside the mansion, Sam was there with an excited energy, ready to hear all about your date. She grabbed your hand and dragged you into the kitchen before you could protest. She had made tea and had left off sweets Jay had made for the guests yesterday. The other ghosts lounged around the kitchen too, and you felt even more embarrassed to talk about your total bust of a date around all of them. 

But you slouched down in the one empty seat and let Sam push a mug of tea in front of you. 

“Tell me everything!” she insisted. 

You smiled politely but it didn’t stay on your face long before it morphed into a frown. “There’s not much to tell,” you sighed. “They stood me up.” 

“Wait, seriously?” Trevor said, seated beside you, brows furrowed. 

“No call, no apology, nothing. I sat there for an hour, like an idiot.” You rubbed your forehead, a scratchy feeling in your throat. There was no way you were going to cry in front of your boss and the ghosts. You tried to swallow down your emotions as you stared at the steam curling up from your tea. 

Sam’s frown deepened. “I’m so sorry.” 

“That is why you should meet suitors the old-fashioned way; not on the web,” Hetty said. 

“People meet online all of the time,” Sam said. “Bad dates happen, but you’ll find someone.” 

“At this rate, I’ll die alone,” you muttered before realizing your audience. “Sorry.” 

“Dying alone not so bad,” Thor said, in his own odd way to cheer you up. “Die here!”

“Thor,” Sam sighed but you laughed lightly. “I’d prefer no one else to die in the house.” 

The Viking shrugged. “Just suggestion.” 

You picked at your fingernails, the same pit that’s been in your stomach since your ruined dinner last night turned. 

Someone called from the entryway, the newest guest at the mansion. You moved to stand, but Sam waved you off. “I got it. You stay here, finish your tea.” You started to object, but she left before you could. With a huff, you sank back down in the chair. 

“You’re young, you got plenty of time. If I learned anything from being alive, dating in your twenties is usually a, what’s that phrase Jay uses?” 

Flower piped up, “A shit-show!” 

Alberta nodded. “Yeah, a shit-show. Brush it off and get back out there, while you’re still young and hot.” 

You smiled. “I’ll try. But you might be right, Hetty.” Maybe dating apps weren’t the way you were going to find someone. Old-fashioned dating sounded a little bit like a nightmare, but you figured it’d pay off more than mindless swiping through apps until another asshole stands you up. 

“I normally am,” Hetty said. 

The ghosts dispersed, going about their day-to-day while you lingered in the kitchen. Trevor stayed with you, quietly drumming his fingers against his bare knees. “At least you didn’t get catfished by a dead dude.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I did that once,” he said. “Catfished Jay’s sister, actually. I didn’t know she was Jay’s sister at first, obviously. But, uh, yeah. It was a whole mess. I tried to possess her friend’s body, but he ended up almost dying, so it was a total bust. Then Sam started putting the iPad in the drawer.” 

You laughed, that pit in your stomach easing just a little. “That’s insane,” you said. “A ghost on a dating app. For all know that’s why my date stood me up.” That sounded a little better than them just not being interested in meeting up with you in person. “But I doubt it.” 

Trevor shrugged. “It’s possible.” 

“I think it might just be me. I’ve never been great at the whole ‘dating’ thing.” 

“I find that hard to believe,” Trevor said. “Looking like that, I’m surprised you don’t have every weekend booked.” 

You shook your head, a little flattered and a little exasperated. “Definitely not. But by the sounds of it, you did.” 

He smirked, throwing his hands up in a ‘what can I say’ gesture. “I got around, if that’s what you’re implying.”

It was odd, being around ghosts. To you, it never felt super different than hanging around livings. Besides the ability to touch them, the ghosts were every bit as real as Sam and Jay. You had started to forget that the Woodstone ghosts were just that, until they did something that knocked you back to reality. Trevor, being the most recent death, made it even harder to tell the difference. You could almost convince yourself he was living. 

“Did you ever have a serious relationship before you died?” you asked, curious. 

Trevor thought for a moment before he shook his head. “Nah. I was having too much fun being a bachelor and screwing around with my buddies to care about anything serious.” He paused, his smug attitude slipping away a little. “I didn’t know I was gonna end up dying before I could, though. I guess I would have liked to.” 

“You guess?” 

He looked a little zoned out, staring at something across the kitchen with his brows slightly knitted together. “I don’t know, I didn’t think much about it until I died.” 

Sympathy fell hard against your shoulders, and you itched to reach out to Trevor and offer some kind of comfort but you couldn’t. Instead, you said, ���I’m sorry.” 

He tried to brush it off, regaining his normal composure but it didn’t shine in his eyes like it usually did. “It’s whatever. I don’t ever have to worry about going on a first date again, which is nice; those were always awful. And getting your heart broken probably sucks, so at least I’ll miss out on that.” 

“You never had your heart broken?” you asked, impressed. Even though you’ve never had a super-serious relationship, you had a tendency to fall for your crushes hard, which usually resulted in a broken heart. 

“Nope.” 

“That’s pretty lucky,” you said. If you could go the rest of your life without a broken heart, you thought that’d be nice. 

--

“It’s an interesting choice for a bachelor party, don’t you think?” Alberta said, but you had to ignore her because of the group of men you were checking in. You did agree though. The B&B was perfect for weddings and romantic weekend getaways. It was the kind of place you brought a family or your parents, not a bachelor party. But the men didn’t look like the kind to get too rowdy. The groom, in your small talk, had said they were just looking for a quiet weekend to unwind before the wedding chaos. They wanted to play video games and board games, drink whiskey, and catch whatever game was on TV. It was rather sweet, you thought. 

“You’re all set. Is there anything else I can do for you?” The groom said no before thanking you and leading his small group of friends up the stairs. They weren’t up there for long though. After they carried in their bags and settled in, the group was back in the entryway, waiting for a car to take them into town, where they planned to bar-hop for the evening. 

One of the groomsmen found himself at the front counter, handsome and smiley as he met your gaze. 

“Do you have any bar recommendations? So far, our ‘bar-crawl’ only consists of two bars,” the groomsman asked. 

You hummed in thought before replying, “The Black Dog is nice. It’s right on Main Street, if you’re heading downtown.” 

“Do you hang out there often?” 

“Sometimes.” 

“So it has pretty company then, huh?” Your eyes widened and a flustered laugh fell from your lips.

From a couple of feet away, some of the ghosts had gathered to observe the new guests. A loud scoff sounded from Trevor before he said, “Seriously?” 

You ignored him in favor of not looking crazy in front of the guests. “Oh, uh, no-” 

“Oh, come on,” the groomsman said. “I’d say you’re pretty, really pretty, actually.” 

Your face felt hot, and you tried to focus on the man in front of you, but the ghosts refused to stop talking. 

“Get a load of this guy,” Trevor huffed. 

“He’s got game, I’ll give him that,” Alberta said, to which Trevor scoffed once more. “What? Look at him.” 

“Thank you,” you said. 

The groomsman tilted his head to the side, pausing for a beat before he said, “Would it be too much to ask when you get off work?” 

“A little.” 

He held his hands up and chuckled. “Fair enough.” 

“This can’t seriously be working on you?” Trevor said. “Look at this guy! He’s got khakis and a polo on!” 

“At least he is wearing pants,” said Hetty. 

“Unbelievable.” Trevor got closer to the counter, much to your disdain. It was hard enough trying to look sane in front of the guests when the ghosts were talking to each other, let alone you. “You’re clearly out of his league-”

“Enough!” you said, raising your voice regrettably so. 

The groomsman looked at you oddly. “Whoa, sorry I-” 

“No!” you quickly cut him off. “Not you! I was, um, I-” 

“Dude, let’s go! The car’s here!” the groom shouted from the front door, beckoning the groomsman over. 

He shot you one last smile, dipping his head in goodbye as he followed his friends out of the mansion. The door closed loudly behind them before the house was drenched in cold silence. The ghosts all stood quietly as you glared. “How many times have you asked you guys not to talk to me when I’m helping guests?” 

“I don’t know if that counted as helping-” Sass started but shut his mouth when you shifted your glare onto him. 

You mumbled under your breath before you left the front counter and bee-lined for the kitchen. Sam and Jay were out for the evening, leaving the mansion in your hands. 

You only got a singular second to yourself before Trevor appeared in the room with you. Rubbing your fingers against your forehead, you asked him. “What was that?” 

He pressed his lips into a thin line for a moment before he shrugged and said, “He was flirting with you, clearly, and was out of your league like I said.” 

You stared at him, the way he fiddled with his tie and avoided your eyes. Then it hit you. “Are you jealous?” 

He blinked. “W-What? No…” By the way, his voice trailed off, you felt a terrible knot tangle in your stomach. 

“Trevor…” 

“Don’t,” he quickly said, shaking his head. “Don’t do that. I don’t…I don’t need that,” he gestured to the very clear glaze of pity in your eyes, but you couldn’t help it. You felt bad, really, terribly bad. 

A heavy breath slipped from your lips as you walked toward him, placing yourself right in front of him. His lips tugged downward in a still sadness that made your heart ache. “I’m really sorry.” 

Trevor sighed, “Don’t be. It’s…ugh.” He pressed his hands against his eyes, laughing bitterly at himself. “I’m dead,” he said. “You’re not.” 

“Yeah,” you breathed out, unsure of what else to say. Maybe if you had met him in a different life, one where you both were either alive or dead, you’d take his flirting more to heart. But that wasn’t your current situation. You existed in different realms, untouchable but on each other’s paths. You’d never described your ability as cruel until that moment. 

“And I’m an idiot,” he added. 

“No, you’re not. If things were different…” Even saying the words aloud, they felt bitter on your tongue, doing more harm than good. You could tell by the wince that twitched in Trevor’s face. 

He smiled sadly, recovering from just the implication of your unfinished sentence. “But they’re not.” He let out a breathy sigh before he nodded his head toward the kitchen door. “I’m gonna go,” he said, slipping away before you could say anything else. 

-- 

The next couple of days passed uncomfortably inside the mansion. Trevor barely showed his face, and you felt worse and worse by the hour. Hetty and Issac kept you company at the front desk, making light conversation between their reassurance that Trevor would be okay. But your guilt weighed on you. You didn’t know how to make it better; you feared you wouldn’t be able to. 

But things came to a turn on the last day the bachelor party was there. The handsome groomsman had left his number on a slip of paper that you crumbled and shoved in your pocket, heavy on your side. You watched as they pulled out of the driveway and when you were alone, you unrolled the paper with his number, staring at it so intently you missed a presence appear beside you. 

“You should call him.” Trevor’s voice started you. You yelped and clutched your heart, which brought a small smile to his lips. 

“What?”

He sighed, shifting in his shoes and looking a little unsure of himself. “That’s his number, right?” You nodded. “You should call him.” 

“Oh, no-” 

Trevor cut you off. “Why not?” Because you felt bad, but you didn’t need to say that for Trevor to understand. “Don’t not call him because of me. Seriously, I…I lied when I said I’ve never had my heart broken.” 

You peered at him, confused. “Why?” 

“Because it sounded a little pathetic to say I crush hard. I liked my recess teacher so much that I cried like a baby when I had to move to fourth grade. In high school, my girlfriend of two weeks broke up with me because she was moving schools and I faked sick for three days because I was so, embarrassingly heartbroken. It’s just how I am,” he admitted, much to your surprise. “But I’ll get over it. It’s like not it would have worked out with me being dead and all. It was stupid.” 

“It wasn’t stupid,” you said. “And you’re not pathetic. It’s sweet, actually. Really sweet.” 

Trevor shrugged. “I’m glad someone thinks so.” He pointed a finger at the paper in your hands. “Call him, okay? You deserve a good date, the old-fashioned way.” 

And so you did, the old-fashioned way.

[zepskies]

What Does "Supporting Writers" Mean? ✍️

Apparently it's Fanfic Writer Appreciation Day! To all my fellow writers, I truly appreciate you for bringing me joy, making me smile on rough days, and giving me my weekly/daily dose of escapism and warm fuzzies. (Shoutouts to you personally below.) 💓💓

But what does it mean "practically" to appreciate your favorite writers, especially on Tumblr?

For example, I know some fanfic authors are starting to block "serial likers": people who'll go through someone's entire masterlist and hit the "like" button on 20-something stories without commenting or basic reblogging.

While I think blocking them is extreme, I understand the authors' frustrations. I've actually been asked if I'll ever leave Tumblr, since many of them have dropped off over the past few months, or even the past few years.

I'm still here for two very important reasons:

I love to write about my favorite characters. I write primarily because I love it, not just for the kudos.

I'm friggin' blessed to have a lot of friends and lovely readers on here and Ao3 who support me immensely on my writing and on this blog in general. I love and appreciate each and every one of you! Which is why I do my best to reply to your comments and reblogs. 💖💖

Of course, there are many reasons why a writer might take a break or stop writing entirely, but one of those reasons is also why the #supportwriters tag exists...

And why you'll see us include banners like this on our posts:

(Credits: cafekitsune, me, inklore)

That being said, here's my own rule of thumb on how I try to support my fellow writers when I read something I enjoy:

If I "liked" something, it means I had the time to read a story all the way through and I enjoyed it! (Or I'm bookmarking it for later in the day lol)

If I have the time to read it, I have the time to leave a comment on what I liked the most about it.

If I have the time to write out a comment (anywhere from a few seconds to a few minutes), I typically put that comment in a reblog -- maybe even add a gif or two for ✨razzle dazzle.✨ That way I can share it with the rest of my followers, so they can see it and hopefully enjoy it too...

Why? Because Tumblr isn't TikTok or IG. Reblogging is the best way to help a post gain traction on Tumblr. The algorithm doesn't care much about likes.

But on a more human level, supporting writers is just the basic thing of -- if you enjoyed something you read (that a writer shared for free), just let them know what you liked about it.

Remember that there's a person behind the content you enjoy. They might have been working on that story for weeks or months, or even years before they got the courage to post it.

They might really be putting themselves out there, writing about a topic or subject matter that they're not sure people will even like or engage with.

Maybe they're exploring something new, like a character or trope they've never written before.

Maybe they're expressing part of themselves that they haven't even told another living soul.

Maybe they just wanted to write something fun and smutty or angsty or fluffy and want to share the escapism with you.

Whether they've been writing for years or are just starting out, any and all is valid.

For me, as a writer and a reader, supporting my fellow writers often means supporting my friends. And 9 times out of 10, the way we became friends was by leaving feedback on their work and asking them questions, or responding to their awesome feedback on mine.

If you want a little jumpstart on how to leave feedback, whether encouraging or constructive, here's an awesome post about it (not mine).

Shoutout to some of my favorite writers 💞:

(In no particular order)

@waynes-multiverse @luci-in-trenchcoats @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @thatonewriter15 @rizlowwritessortof

@waywardxwords @tofics @kaleldobrev @deanbrainrotwritings @deanwritings

@jawritter @deanwinchesterswitch @justagirlinafandomworld @ravengirl94 @waywardxwords

@spnbabe67 @deanwanddamons @ejlovespie @kittenofdoomage @venus-haze

@talltalesandbedtimestories @sam-is-my-safe-word @jacklesbrainworms @artyandink @princessmisery666 (I just starting reading your stories, but I'm continuing with Samnesia soon!) -- and I'm sure many more! 💋

[crazylittlejester]

Do you have any angsty/general hcs of Wild?

yesssss yes i do >:) i actually have a lot of thoughts about Wild (sorry for taking so long to answer this im real behind on asks)

- Fluent in a TON of languages, which he only discovered when he actually went to the other regions of Hyrule and got a few memories back. If you asked him to think about it he wouldn’t be able to, but plop him down and have him have a conversation with someone from a different region in his Hyrule and the memory of the language will come back and he can understand and speak with them

- His poor body is so used to getting thrown around that he rarely if EVER experiences motion sickness (never let him challenge you to see who can roll down a hill faster. it will be him because he will make it to the bottom and you will have to stop because you got nauseous.)

- There’s something INCREDIBLY odd about him that is both extremely uncanny and alluring at the same time, and its not because he’s covered in scars. Like people will look at him as he passes by and they can’t STOP looking at him for some unknown reason and they get a full body chill when they do. It took the chain a very very long time to stop feeling like that near him because they just had to adjust to him (it’s not caused by anything Wild does, he’s not in control of it, it’s just that he has the aura of an ancient dead being and it’s so fucking strong that those who are more attuned to magic can like. literally feel him.)

- His eyes used to be a very dark, stormy blue. In a way, they still are, but they seem unnaturally bright and almost turquoise, but if you actually got up in his face you can see the stormy blue beneath it, it just looks very oddly dead

- He’s hard of hearing, and it’s harder to hear from the ear on the same side as his scars which he why he really liked learning the chain knowns sign because he CAN read lips fairly well but sometimes it’s just hard and annoying to have to do when people are talking quietly. He can hear like, a slightly louder than normal talking volume if the person he’s chatting with isn’t too far from him, but anything softer than that becomes very hard for him to make out

- He has no memory of his mother, and the guilt eats him alive. She died so long ago there’s no one alive who remembers her still, not even the few older people who’ve survived the calamity and stuck around for a hundred years, and he feels bad that he has a few faint memories of his dad and sister but not her

- He’s a bit scared of Warriors at first because he looks at him and wonders if that might have been what his life would’ve looked like had he not failed, but once he spends more time with him and realizes that Wars is just a person, and a person who lives under so much stress and regret at that, he realizes he has a lot in common with him and they connect really well

- He. LOVES. to. talk. Whether he’s using sign or running his mouth he LOVES to talk, and he has so much to talk ABOUT. He has so many pictures and he’s seen SO many things and now he has friends to share that with who also love to learn???? This is so good for him. However he will stop talking the second he gets overwhelmed or overstimulated, and sometimes it takes him a day or two to start talking again

- He documents everything with his slate to show Zelda when he gets home because even though she’s free now, he feels bad that he gets to see a side of the world she never will so he takes pictures of it so she can experience things through HIS memories in a way to pay her back for letting him re-experience life through hers

- He sometimes has trouble feeling like he’s actually IN his body and it scares him. He mentioned it to Wars at one point (because Wars has moments where he doesn’t seem all too there) but neither of them can figure out if he’s dissociating because of trauma or if his soul is literally just loosely tied to his body because he died and he ACTUALLY starts to drift out of it. It scares him that Wars doesn’t have an actual answer for him, and no one else seems to know either

- He gets overwhelmed at times, especially when people hover over him because he simply isn’t used to it, but if he gets hurt he will let Twilight hover all he wants because the alternative is Twi working himself up and driving everyone else insane and Wild knows that Twi just needs to feel useful and taking care of people helps him keep himself calm. So Wild puts up with it

- Will spontaneously try new food dishes or just combine ingredients he was curious about and feed it to the chain without telling them he’s testing out a brand new recipe so they aren’t unconsciously biased when he asks them how it is (obviously he avoids allergens, diet restrictions, or foods that will just make them uncomfortable because he’s not an asshole, he just doesn’t tell them its something he’s never made before)

- On a similar note one of the first things he did when the chain started getting comfortable with eat other was take them all one by one and have them cook with him a dish they liked from home so he could learn the recipes and they could all share their cultures and food with each other

- It’s not that he DOESNT take care of his hair, he just also barrels down hills, crashes through bushes, and falls in mud puddles so by the end of the day he’s a hot mess. He takes very good care of his hair, and he WILL NOT go to bed without combing it out and braiding it to keep it from tangling, no matter how fucking tired he is (or Twi or Wars will end up doing it for him)

- TERRIFYINGLY intelligent and a brilliant strategist. He’s the only one who’s ever outsmarted Wars in a game of chess, and no one in the chain has gotten over it. Sometime’s Wild’s head is really foggy and it’s hard for him to think but on days of clarity he’s wicked smart and he thinks FAST

- It’s very hard for him to sleep sometimes because of his century long nap. Sometimes he’ll be up for multiple days in a row and then crash for 15 hours

- It is not necessarily that he’s reckless, more so that he had to relearn what it is like to be killable. His recklessness is accidental. He woke up, grabbed a stick, and just fucking WENT, and when he got mipha’s grace he was invincible for a bit. Obviously he knew death was a thing but until he recovered the memory of himself dying, it was almost like he didn’t think it could happen to him. Because of this, sometimes he just jumps at things before he remembers “hey, you can die doing this- maybe do not”

[meanbossart]

Ask compilation: DU drow, Orin, Astarion, lore things and little fun facts.

Trying to make a dent in this dang inbox. As always, thank you so much everyone for your patience and curiosity! Sorry that it is straight up no longer possible for me to reply to everyone, but I will keep doing my best within reason. Enjoy!

Absolutely! I had a lot of requests for bottom Astarion on my patreon which is why I was kind of on a roll there for a minute.

Though, for the record - I am really not very invested in strict bedroom roles at all. Or clear and distinct dominant/submissive dynamics. So please don't overthink it whenever there's a switch, no pun intended.

You wanna know how often they smash? Man, I don't know, I guess fairly often considering their lifestyle post-game (very active, often on the road).

Assuming that everyone agrees that sex doesn't have to involve penetration, I'd say once every other day or less, really depends on the circumstances though. DU drow's libido is much higher than Astarion's, but he's not an animal and can hold off fine. Astarion is likely to be pickier in regards to location and how-recently-have-we-bathed status as well.

I keep meaning to draw him, but I have like... A million things I want to do 😂 so its rough!

BUT you will at least continue to see him in ANE! And I'm sure i'm bound to draw him again in the future.

[MORE UNDER THE CUT]

If you mean in his bhaalist "AU", where he has the red robe and the extra scars, I imagine he would have gotten it through killing Isobel.

I think as a changeling she probably has the ability to just... Transform her hair however she likes at will, right? And based on her attitude plus some lines we get from Sceleritas about her own former-butler, it sounds like she would be really opposed to being serviced in that way, to me at least.

I see her as pretty aggressively independent with the way she operates, which is another factor that sets her apart from DU drow, who really enjoyed lording over the other Bhaalists and making an errand boy out of Sceleritas, to the point where he practically depended on their help to function.

Neither! I wasn't willing to let anyone take either of my eyes in my first playthrough, LOL.

I have since always given the Volo eye to SOMEONE, usually Gale, but I don't consider that canonical. I don't think anyone was desperate enough to let mister frumpy-hat over there ice-pick their eyes out.

He did do them himself. It was a profoundly stupid display he got caught up in because of Gortash. Also, de-handment is kind of a theme in his life, at least inside his head.

I have a comic about it planned for the future ;)

What do you mean, that's canonical to the game and everything! He loves the cuck chair!

He is an angsty 29-year old in denial. Your interpretation is still perfectly accurate.

Hates the guy. Hates when Shadowheart Astarion people joke about him being the Drizzt of his generation. Hates the guy like literally any countercultural weirdo hates Taylor Swift or the Weeknd. If he saw him at the line in the grocery store DU drow would find a way to roll his eyes loudly just so he could notice being an asshole.

Stay tuned, I'm cooking 🧑‍🍳

If you're asking about game strats, badly, LOL. Pretty sure I died twice to her in my first run and it was a rough way of being thrown into "serious" DnD combat.

With the exception of a couple of encounters that just so happened to turn out SURPRISINGLY cinematic, I'm just realizing that I actually don't think too often about how most of the fights went in real-time! I imagine Autie Ethel's in particular wasn't one that DU drow went into of his own accord, probably rather at a companion's insistence. That's as deep as I've thought about that personally.

Now... Back to game strats. I personally try to get a surprise round on her however I can by sneaking and shooting an arrow or AOE in her general location, since she always stands on roughly the same spot while invisible. I have my companions spread about the arena so we can take her clones down as fast as possible, and as soon as I identify who the real Ethel is I just have the strongest martial characters wail on her until she begs to be let go. Hers is one of the few fights that is actually pretty dang easy at this point for me - and I SUCK at this game.

That would certainly take a while! But, Bhaalist DU drow does kind of have an end goal, actually.

That might also turn into a comic eventually, but it would a rough one.

He pretty swiftly disposed of her, DU drow doesn't like being talked down to, which Minthara very promptly does. Him (and I, by extension) had very limited exposure to her and she was just kind of a speck of dust in his story in particular. Though I have since grown to adore her character in my proceeding runs where I do recruit her!

I guess if he got an invitation and it wasn't particularly painful to arrive at the venue, sure! He would specially love to take Astarion to Gale's wedding ceremony and purposely upstage him at every at every opportunity, LOL.

Yes. He got pretty freaky with the pain-priest. This is gonna sound like a lie but I made him get naked for it without even knowing there was a buff to be gained (I didn't get it, unfortunately, I don't remember whether I failed a check or if I had camp clothes toggled on, so it didn't count as being truly nude). I wasn't taking the game very seriously and just doing dumb roleplay things to see what would happen, LOL.

And I consider that canonical. I think DU drow saw the opportunity to show off his physique And had a strange inkling that this was a practice he was... Somehow familiar with.

Imagine my joy when Astarion and Shadowheart start having a back-and-forth about my absurd display. That's when i knew those were my people, to be honest.

[rxmqnova]

I have an idea for a nat x daughter reader fic so basically reader is like a lab made baby by hydra with nat is the gene for her mother and the other one is a random hydra dude and they put reader in a house with him and his wife somewhere In America but reader knows about nat but hydra dose not know she knows I kind of want it to be the vibe of stick season but anyway she runs away and finds Yelena by accident and yelena is like what is happening and takes her to the avengers which then leads nat to meeting reader if you can can you make it like super angsty but with a happy ending

Daughter?

Y/N: 13 years old ——————————————————

NO ONE'S POV Ever since Y/N was a little girl, she has always sneaked out of her room everytime her father and step-mother had a visit. She knew it's not a good idea, especially when her father always scolds her for it, but she's way too curious.

Her curiousness led her to one very important information. A few years ago she overheard her father's boss talk about her mother… the real one. And since then Y/N's been trying to get out of this place and find her mother… the Black Widow herself.

She hates this place, she really does. The main reason is that her father is forcing her to train every day, so she could become a hydra agent one day.

Yes, Y/N's father is a hydra agent. He's actually one of the most trusted one for his boss, so that's why he was chosen to become the father of the future world's best assassin.

"Weak!" Y/N's father yells, pushing the poor exhausted girl and causing her to fall on the ground. "This is worthless! Go to your room, we'll continue tomorrow. I want to see you in way better condition, understand?!" He asks sternly.

"Yes" Y/N nods, trying to catch her breath. Her father leaves to room, leaving the exhausted young girl laying on the ground.

Once Y/N catches breath, she makes her way to her room and then straight to the bathroom to take a shower, thinking that she needs to get out of here as soon as possible.

As nearly every Friday night, Y/N's father and his wife are going out for dinner, leaving the girl home completely alone. Y/N doesn't mind though, at least she can finally get out of here and never ever come back again.

As soon as the front door shut and the car drives away, Y/N takes her bag and starts packing everything she needs.

With her bag in her hand, she rushes downstairs, trying to open every single window to try and find some her father hasn't locked. The door is locked, so there's no point in trying.

A smile makes its way on the girl's face when one of the window can be opened. She puts on her coat, takes her bag and gets out of the house, running as fast as she can to get as far as possible.

She runs and runs, finally arriving to a small village which makes her smile and let out a sigh of relief. She's too overwhelmed with everything that she doesn't pay attention to where she's going.

"Careful, little one" A blonde lady says, making Y/N cheeks turn a bit red.

"S-sorry" Y/N sutters, not used to talking to other people than her father or her step-mother.

"What are you doing here alone? It's dangerous. This place's…" Yelena stops, looking at the last few standing houses.

This little village is near one hydra base, so of course when some of the Avengers came to take that place down, the village didn't survive without a damage.

"Well, let's just say a very bad people lived near this little village" The blonde finishes her sentence.

"I. Hm… I-I'm looking for my mom. She. Hm. She's supposed to be some kind of superhero. Her name's Natasha Romanoff. Have you heard of her?" Y/N asks, a bit of hope in her voice as she looks up at the shocked woman.

"Natasha? What? She can't have children on her own. I… what?" Yelena stares at the child completely confused, but now noticing how similar the girl looks to her sister.

"Wait. So you know her? Could you please take me to her? I can't go back there, I really can't. Please" Y/N begs and Yelena can't help but nod as she's also curious how this happened.

Y/N follows Yelena to the quinjet, meeting Kate, Clint, Steve and Bucky there. Of course they look at the two with questioning looks, so Yelena tells them something before she sits aside with the young girl.

Yelena admits she's Natasha's sister, so Y/N tells her the story too, feeling like she can trust this woman. She does feel more and more nervous every minute they get closer to the compound though. She's wanted to meet her mom for a few years and she's worried about what will Natasha think about the whole situation.

As soon as the jet lands in front of the compound and everyone walks out, Y/N is quick to follow behind Yelena, spotting a redhead sitting on the couch.

"Natasha?" Yelena calls on which Natasha turns her head, smiling when she sees her sister.

"You're back" The redhead stands up, walking over to her sister and giving her a hug while Y/N stands behind and watching them, her heart nearly skipping a beat when she sees how much she looks like her mother.

"I brought someone who'd like to meet you" Yelena informs, placing her hand on Y/N's shoulder and giving the girl a soft smile.

"H-Hi, I. Hm. I-I'm Y/N" Y/N sutters, giving Natasha an akward nervous smile.

"Hey?" Natasha looks at the girl completely confused. "What can I do for you?"

"I. Hm… I-I know this will sound weird, but I-I'm your daughter" Y/N blurts out, looking at Natasha and hoping she'll believe her.

"Nonsense. I don't have a child" Natasha says immediately, the topic of children being a touchy subject for her. She turns around, walking away, but Y/N follows her.

"I can explain. Please"

"Y/N, you seem to be a nice girl, but this is a really bad joke. I can't have children on my own. It's just impossible" Natasha says with a sigh, not even turning around and continuing to walk towards her room.

Of course she's noticed the girl's features, but Dreykov made sure she won't ever have children on her own, so Y/N surely cannot be her daughter as she claims.

"It's not a joke. I really am your daughter. If you just let me explain, I-"

"No. I can't have children, Y/N" The redhead says once again, shutting the door of her room right in front of Y/N's face.

Y/N lets out a sigh, pushing back the tears that are forming in her eyes. After all, she left her home, her father… Her life wasn't the best, but what now? She has no place to stay, no home, no family.

Maybe the girl gave her hopes too high, thinking her mother would actually be happy to have a daughter. Y/N was really hoping she'd finally have a family she wanted for so long, but deep down she knew Natasha's reaction could be bad… and well, the redhead doesn't even know the part about hydra.

"What's wrong?" Yelena asks as soon as she spots her potentional niece stepping into the kitchen with her head low.

"She won't let me explain" Y/N mumbles with a sigh. "It was stupid, I should have stayed there" She mumbles to herself.

"Let me talk to her, yeah? Wanda here will give you something to eat meanwhile" Yelena smiles warmly, placing her hand on Y/N's shoulder and giving it a rub.

Y/N nods, so Yelena walks away and straight to her sister's room. After hearing Y/N's story she just wants nothing but to help the young girl. She knows Natasha would be a great mother and Yelena's already excited about being an aunt.

Yelena knocks at the door of Natasha's room, not getting any response, but she just walks in anyway, finding her sister sitting on the bed, deep in thought as her cheeks are stained by tears.

"Natasha, I know it's hard to believe, but Y/N explained everything to me. You're her mother. Isn't that what you've always wanted?" Yelena asks, sitting down on the bed next to her sister.

"Yelena, I can't have children and neither can you. It's just impossible. What if she's just a spy or something, huh? Have you thought about that?" Natasha blurts out, standing up and leaving the room. She really doesn't want to talk about it right now.

"Natasha, just talk to her" Yelena sighs, following her sister to where she's going.

"Why, Yelena? If I'm her mother, she needs to have a second parent. Why doesn't she go to him? Where does she live anyway? She has to live somewhere. I don't even want a daughter" Natasha's irritated by now, not meaning the words she's saying, but that's something Y/N doesn't know though… and she's heard every single word.

The sisters stop walking and talking when they notice they're suddenly in the kitchen, Y/N looking at both with watery eyes, thinking how stupid it was to look for her mother.

The girl immediately stands up from the table she's been sitting at and eating her food, taking her bag and rushing out of the compound, ignoring Yelena's calling after her.

The blonde runs after her niece immediately, catching her sooner than she leaves the compound.

"Hey, hey, you can't just leave. It's getting late and cold" Yelena says, bringing Y/N in for a hug on which the girl can't hold her tears anymore.

"I just wanted a mom" Y/N cries out into Yelena's shoulder, holding the blonde tightly.

"I know, sweetheart, I know. I'm sure Natasha didn't mean it, honey" Yelena tries to calm the girl down, rubbing her back and pressing a kiss to her head.

———

Yelena managed to get Y/N to stay. Both are ready to go to bed now, but a knock at Yelena's door interrupts them.

Natasha hasn't stopped thinking about it… if it's really possible that she could have her own daughter. She feels so incredibly bad for making Y/N cry and she's always wanted a child, but what if it's just a trap?

She did decide to talk to the younger redhead though. Natasha always recognizes when someone's lying, so she'll see if the girl's telling the truth or not.

"Hey, can I have a word with Y/N?" Natasha asks after opening the door.

Yelena nods, telling them she's going to the kitchen for a glass of water, so the two stay alone. Natasha takes a seat on the bed, looking at the girl who's avoiding an eye-contact.

"Y/N, I… I know I said something that hurt you and I'm sorry for that. I just… I've lived my whole life, thinking I would never have a child on my own. So when you told me you're my daughter… It just felt… impossible" Natasha admits.

"I was made in a lab. They used your eggs to create me. I heard my father talking about it with his boss a few years ago. I just thought that maybe if I found you… that maybe I could have someone who'd actually love me" Y/N confesses, trying to push back her tears and not cry in front of the woman in front of her.

"So you have a father… doesn't he love you?" Natasha asks, receiving a shake of a head from the girl.

"He's just completing his boss's orders and trains me to become a hydra agent, but I don't want to" Y/N sighs, Natasha squeezing her eyes shut, knowing damn well what's it like to have a childhood like that.

"I'm sorry you had to live like that" The redhead says softly, placing her hand on Y/N's and finally making the girl look up and lock eyes with her.

"Had to? You won't send me back to him?" She asks confused.

"No, of course not. I would never send you back to someone who's doing this. I should have let you explain earlier, I'm sorry" Natasha apologizes, rubbing her thumb over Y/N's knuckles.

That's all it takes for Y/N to just jump into Natasha's arms, taking the redhead by surprise. Natasha chuckles, wrapping her arms around Y/N. She will definitely want Bruce to run some DNA tests, but her spy skills say Y/N's telling the truth. Looks like a brand new chapter of her life is starting right now… she's a mom.

----------------------

Natasha Romanoff masterlist

Masterlist

[blocksgame]

Tips on character voices when writing fic

This is written in mind for people writing fic in MCYT/QSMP/DSMP/Life series/etc kind of fandoms. But if anyone finds it useful for anything else, well then, hell yeah.

Character voice is big in all, uh, fiction, and mimicking it in any fanwork is big. But I think it’s especially big in these fandoms where the voices are so distinct – it’s usually how a Real Person Somewhere (the streamer) talks, versus something very scripted that you’d see in a TV show or novel. And it can be a big difference in your character sounding generic versus really feeling true to the original.

Listen to a bunch of your subject talking. If you want to write a character well, watch vods from their point of view, or episodes where they show up a bunch. Take note of what they say and how.

2. If you don’t know how to start doing that: try literally writing down what they say. Transcribe an actual exchange in fic-format. You probably won’t want to publish a literal exchange from canon, but it will give you a sense of how to physically write what they say.

3. If you do this (or just pay attention to how they talk), you will get a lot of: Stumbling, pauses, repeating words, filler words, weird sentence constructions, fragments, etc. I love em! Here’s something that comes through in improv much more than in novels or movies: Most people, even very charismatic people, are not very eloquent when they speak. Writing out conversations or sentences will give you a sense of the unique and delightful way in which your subject is not eloquent. vvvvv way more under cut vvvvv

(People use a LOT of filler/etc when they speak. It’s reasonable to cut back on this if it’s interfering with a nice-looking or readable result. I believe this is the eternal struggle of people who write transcripts – you want the transcript to be accurate, but there are also a lot of things you can obviously simplify and not lose the meaning. So you’ll end up falling somewhere on this spectrum either way. But I do think a lot of mediocre/generic fic dialogue is very stylized – it doesn’t sound like your guy because your guy literally wouldn’t say that. They would say it worse and more confusingly.)

(I’m serious, if you’ve never sat down with a short non-completely-scripted clip or real conversation or whatever and just written out exactly what was said, do it. It will make you better at writing.)

4. Wonda-cat made a really incredible list [link] of characterizing speech patterns for the Dream SMP members. But you can also do your own reconnaissance and come up with your own patterns, common phrases, etc.

5. You do not have to get EVERYTHING right. You’re not going to, like, get so deep into the speaker’s brain that you can produce “exactly what they would have said if they were somehow in your fic.” That is impossible. You’re just trying to evoke a character, and if you get a few turns of phrase to ring true, you’re doing great.

6. A lot of these people are popular because they are hilarious. Include jokes. Yes, even if your thing is angsty or serious. A lot of the most serious lore I can think of from, e.g., the Dream SMP or 3rd Life or the QSMP - the really story-defining, life-and-death moments - were absolutely hysterical. If you’re writing characters who are usually funny, then add some humor. It can heighten angst via contrast and a sense of realism. Ask yourself what a funny streamer would make jokes about if they were possessing a character in this situation.

7. Some people have the mystical ability to “hear” character voices in their head, and read things in their voice. If you can, do this with all of your dialogue during the editing process. This won’t always get you there, but sometimes it can catch things that sound wrong by invoking "that's really hard to imagine them saying". If you don’t have this power, try recruiting a friend who does.

8. So there’s dialogue and then there’s narration that’s still from a character’s point of view. I’ve mostly given you tips about dialogue, but a lot of this is also true for narration. IMO, narration is less about phrasing things the way the subject would, and more about recreating the way they think. I don’t have concrete rules on how to do this, but here is my wisdom:

You can get eloquent again - narration is more of an abstract and artistic process than dialogue.

Spend time with your subject’s source material.

Pay attention to what they notice and care about. How do you think they think?

Don’t be afraid to get weird with it.

That last one also applies to all art ever.

9. MCYT tends to give you a great boon you don’t see in other media: what the speaker says to their chat/audience when nobody else is listening. This can be incredibly characterizing even if you’re writing a story where people don’t have chats. It’s your person talking about their thought processes and feelings! Mine that shit.

10. Some questions that might help guide both characterizing narration and dialogue (that you’d get from dialogue):

How open are they about their feelings?

How often do they lie? What do they lie about?

What kind of metaphors do they use, if any?

How quickly does their mood change?

How can you tell when they’re in different moods?

What kind of things do they pay attention to?

How formal is their speech?

11. Finally, this is a little odd, but I find it’s much, much easier to write a character that sounds good if I, the author, like them and am rooting for them at least a little bit. If a character needs to be there who you don’t love, try to love them. Or at least get a sense of what other people love about them. It just makes everything else easier. I swear to god.

Happy writing out there!

[adventuringblind]

is oscar the only driver you do autistic!reader for? if not can I request lando x daniel x autistic!reader.

any situation is fine I don't mind 😊

My love, my life, and nerodivergent partners in crime

Daniel Riccairdo x reader x Lando Norris

Genre: angsty fluff (I think)

Summarry: How Daniel managed to keep two nerdiverdent young adults in line... nobody will ever know

Warnings: Lando is ADHD coded, and you can't change my mind (and he's dyslexic anyway), AGE GAP, Max loves to tease

Notes: I am officially only taking requests for poly reader inserts at this time. Also, do Lando and Daniel have a ship name?!?! I need this information for my masterlist, please, and thanks.

Masterlist

Everyone always wondered why Daniel Ricciardo trailed behind Lando Norris and his girlfriend by three steps. People have theorized its because he's thirdwheeling. Some say the pair doesn't pay attention to him.

The real reason, though? It's his way of showing he cares in the paddock.

Max teases him about it all the time and is the only one who gets away with it. The two younger are, however, a chaotic mess. They can not make it from one place to another without something happening. So Daniel trails behind them a few steps to make sure they make it to their destination.

It's certainly wasn't an ideal way to get together. Especially because Daniel is older than both by more than is socially acceptable by most.

Ironically, none of them were together when Daniel started at McLaren. An Australian who smiles a lot, a Brit who is loose lipped, and a shy little psychologist who hates talking until you get her on driver brains and how they work. What could possibly go wrong?

She started work at McLaren the year before Daniel. Something in the strategy department. She watches and listens and somehow can predict what the drivers are going to do, what they need to perform, and how their opponents might respond. Lando says it's a superpower. Daniel says she's autistic and watches how people behave for a living (she agrees with him).

The three of them got along better than anyone wants to admit. The world saw then as awkward and dysfunctional. Which wasn't a lie, but it's also just their combinations of personalities.

Daniel picked up on it first. The stolen glances and blushed cheeks. Then, drunk confessions happen. Neither of the younger two like drinking. Which is ridiculous, in Daniel's opinion. Or maybe it was ridiculous because he's the one who drunkenly confesses to the pair while they attempt to get him back to his room.

Supposedly, Max was there and heard everything. Daniel denies this relentlessly.

Lando picked up on the confession, confronted him about it, and then awkwardly kissed him on his tip toes (he was shorter then).

The biggest hurdle was the female. The one who studies people. The one who can predict what Daniel is going to have for lunch on Friday at two because he likes to eat later.

She's clueless.

Lando tries to tell her. Daniel attempts sober. She doesn't get it.

The two have to put it in the form of a business meeting and tell her until she gets it. That seems to work as they end up going on a date post confession.

If he's being honest, half the time love them is really just making sure they are getting along with the world. Not people, the environments they end up in (which often includes the people).

So Daniel walks three steps behind them. The people tease on socials. They edit him in tiktoks. But he could care less.

He loves his two nerodivergent partners. He loves their little quirks and they way they see the world. So Daniel determines he's okay being behind them. Because he loves them and wants nothing more than to watch out for his partners in crime.

[whiskeyghoul]

Pt.5 || She blinded me with science || [Spencer Reid x Goth!Reader]

First chapter, Previous chapter, Next chapter

A/N: Get ready for some angst baby. So this is my first time writing something close to angsty. Which means I might not have completely perfected it yet. Then again there needs to be a first for everything. I hope you enjoy reading, and if you do, please let me know. My reqs are also open if people have any ideas they want to see written.

WC: 2,7K

Tags: Mild angst, conflicting feelings, a little hurt/comfort?, alt reader, realizing feelings, I don’t think this chapter is considered fluff. 

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, feeling alone, hinting at past relationships?

Spencer POV

It was Thursday afternoon when Spencer had returned from a case. It was short, quick, which was nice because he wanted to go back to you. He had tried to call while away, to text you when he had time. Yet for some reason you hardly responded. You were slow to answer texts, the answers always short and quick. You had avoided his calls, when you did pick up they were equally as short as your texts. The tone was distant and a little cold. It was strange to him. The date had gone well, in his opinion, and he didn’t think he had done anything wrong. It was just a little nerve wracking. With every short message, every cut off call, his anxiety grew.

When they got back to Quantico, he was ready to head straight to your lab. Though he noticed there was no music when he arrived there, it was quiet inside. Too quiet. He gently knocked on the frosted glass door. There was no sound from inside, no light coming through the door. No indication that you were there. His shoulders sagged down, a little deflated. He had been looking forward to seeing you again, even if it was just to settle his own nerves. His hand found the cellphone in his pocket, he scrolled through the names until he found yours. Pressing the call button, he just really wanted to hear your voice. Needing to know if you were okay, if he hadn’t done something wrong. The phone rang, 3 times, heart beating out of his chest before you picked up.

“Hello, Y/N’s phone! Penelope speaking.” The familiar voice of their technical analyst sounded from the other end of the phone. Spencer furrowed his brow a little, “Hey, it’s Spencer… Is she with you?” He asked, his left hand holding on to the bottom edge of his sweater. “Oh! Spence! She just headed to the toilet, she should be back soon. Want me to take a message?” Penelope answered, her voice chipper, she probably didn’t know you had been avoiding him. Or if she did she didn’t let it show. “Can I come talk to her?” He asked, still a bundle of nerves, the bad kind. The one where a nauseous feeling settles in your stomach. Where every word could send him into a spiral if it was said with the wrong tone. “Ofcourse, I am sure you have a lot to talk about.” Penelope spoke, and he could tell there was something in her voice. She knew what was going on. It made his stomach sink further. 

Just like that his feet started moving already towards Penelope’s office. “Thanks, I’ll be there in a minute.” Spencer said and quickly hung up before anything she could say would make it worse. He was quick, hoping to be there before you came back, so you couldn’t avoid him. He was there in a minute, like he had said, quickly and almost feverishly knocking on the door. The rapid rap of his knuckles against the solid wood sounded hollow in his ears. Penelope opened, trying to put on a bubbly smile. Though he peered past her to see if you were already back. No sign yet. “Hey, you should come in.” Penelope opened the door wider and he stepped past her. “Has she said anything? About me?” Spencer’s question felt weird. He didn’t want to come across as clingy, or that he was obsessed, but he just had to understand why. Why had you been avoiding him?

“Slow down boy wonder. I think I am not the one to tell you about that.” Penelope answered as she closed the door, pointing towards one of the desk chairs. Spencer hadn’t noticed how he had been nervously bouncing on the balls of his feet until she did. He sat down, trying to regain some composure. “Did I do something wrong? I thought the date went well. Maybe I rambled too much… That's usually what happens. I should have just stayed quiet, listened to her.” He rambled off nervously, his mind spiraling back to when he had leaned in and told a fact when you had been expecting something completely different. But you had kissed him after that, twice, it was so conflicting. Confusing. Paradoxical. 

“Breathe!” Penelope urged, grabbing one of her many mugs with water and forcing it into Spencer’s hands. He took a gulp, hoping it would calm his nerves but it didn’t do anything. At Least he was silent. “Just…” Penelope sighed, “I can tell you that you didn’t do anything wrong, okay?” Spencer nodded his head, taking another swig of the lukewarm water. He hoped it hadn’t been out for too long, who knew what bacteria were growing if it had. Though the idea of it was a mere whisper in the back of his mind as his entire consciousness was taken up by his worried thoughts. “I should have told you before, I really should have but I didn’t expect it to happen this quickly.” Penelope sounded dejected. “What happened? Just tell me, please?” He didn’t like how whiny that please sounded, how desperate it made him sound. Even though he was desperate for answers. 

The door to Penelope’s office opened, “Honestly Pen, I don’t get why you have to be so far away from the b-” You stopped your sentence as your eyes met Spencer. He was desperately clinging on to the cup he was holding like it was his life line. “Hi…” was all he managed to say when he saw you. Even with all the conflicting feelings, your appearance still left him a little tongue tied. You weren’t wearing the lab coat, so he could fully appreciate your appearance. The black and red patterned dress was cut low, and hugged your hips and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Your arms are covered with fishnet fabric, some parts more ripped up to create a few larger holes. More important to him was the belt, two clips extending to hold the hem, hiking up the skirt of your dress to show off just a sliver of your thigh. “Spencer.” The way you said his name still made his heart race. He got up from his chair, placing the mug back on Penelope’s desk. The blonde in question nudged you, Spencer could almost see the thoughts swimming behind your eyes. You must be just as nervous as he is. “I’ll leave you two to talk.” Penelope said, quickly walking out the door of her own space, leaving the two of you there. Spencer’s heart was beating so loud, he could feel the blood rush under the skin of his hands. It was too silent as you both looked at eachother. 

“I want to-” “Why didn’t you-” Both of you spoke at the same time, breaking through the silence. There was a slight, awkward, chuckle that left Spencer. “You can go first.” He said, wringing his hands together involuntarily. “I want to apologize…” You said it softly. Spencer’s eyes flicked down to your right hand, twisting in the fabric of your dress. Your left was steadily turning a ring on your finger. Everything you did screamed nervous to him. “What for?” He asked, eyes focussed on you. He wanted to see everything, piece together every unconscious movement that would give away a deeper meaning. “For being a bit absent. I just… had a lot of work.” Lie. That was a lie. Spencer could see it. The way you averted your eyes, how your hand stilled in the twisting of the ring, your breathing hitched up as you said the last part of your sentence. Everything pointed to it being a lie. He hated that he could see that.

You felt the need to lie to him. To temper his feelings by trying to explain away what had really happened. There were tens of thousands of thoughts swimming through his mind about what could have happened. Did you meet someone else? Or realize he wasn’t your type. The differences being too big to make it work. “Could you tell me the truth?” He didn’t mean for that to come out. Especially when he saw the surprise in your eyes. “I am. I was busy, I had a lot of evidence to sort through, drugs, nail scrapings. I also had the reports to write and- and-” You were trying to convince yourself that it was the truth. That hurt. Apparently you didn’t want him to know the real reason. “Y/N. I am a behavioral analyst, I can tell when you lie. Please just… don’t? I want to know what happened, I thought we had a good time at the museum. I just, did I do something wrong? I didn’t mean to, and I can’t change it if you don’t tell me.” He was pleading now. Eyes on you as you looked for an answer, lips slightly parted as you breathed out. Taking a step closer, reaching out his hand to yours. Just to hold it in his, feel you, decide if this was either a bad nightmare or a terrible reality. 

When Spencer felt your hand in his he closed his eyes for a moment. This was real. He opened his eyes again, the only focus was on yours. Waiting. Watching to see your response. “Spencer, it wasn’t anything you did. Trust me. You did nothing wrong, it was perfect, and I wish I could have stayed in that museum forever.” You spoke, not averting your gaze, looking him in the eye with full confidence. Not even a tremor in your voice. That was the truth.

“Then what happened? I don’t like that you’re ignoring me. It feels like just the entire pit of my stomach gave out. Did I move too fast? I’m not good with these things. But I really, really, like you. You do all these things to me. Just… I can’t take the silent treatment. Not from you.” There it was with a sigh. His feelings, out in the open. Hoping it was enough for you to tell him what happened. Instead, you looked sorrowful, eyes almost glossy with what he realized were tears. “I really am sorry. I need time for something. I can’t talk about it now, I don’t want to pull you down with me. I will tell you afterwards, okay?” Your voice did nothing to soothe the pain of rejection he felt. Even though he so wished to believe you. You were hurt too and he didn’t understand why. Because you were the one pushing him away.

Spencer nodded his head dejectedly, a soft sniffle leaving him as he tried to not let the emotions overwhelm him. All the anxiety had left and was replaced by the cold, empty feeling of rejection. His nerve endings were no longer on edge, instead they were rather numb. “I’ll eh… I will go. Leave you to whatever you need to do.” His voice didn’t really sound like his own to him. Like he was running on autopilot and it was a preprogrammed recording. He let go of your hand, taking a deep breath, before he walked to the door. His hand was on the door knob when you called his name, when he looked over his shoulder at you you looked just as dejected. Your lips parted, like you wanted to say something, closing again, opening again. He could see you looking for the right words, but there were none. His lips formed an awkward, tight smile and he nodded. “Text me when you want to talk.” He said before leaving the room.

Closing the door with a hollow sound he took just a few steps before Penelope approached him. “What happened? Are you okay?” her voice concerned and laced with just a little pity. He didn’t need pity right now. He didn’t want to be around anyone. “Could you tell Hotch I need a personal day?” His question got a frantic nod in return. Clearly she understood it wasn’t something good that happened just now. “Yeah, yeah of course. Need anything else?” She answered, trying to be the good friend he always knew she was. He shook his head no, “I just need time.” He spoke softly before walking over to his desk. There was no comment from Derek, just a slight sympathetic look. He hated that.

Grabbing his bag and his jacket he quickly made himself ready to leave. JJ tried to stop him, files in hand ready to ask a question when he ducked his head and continued on. Not willing to talk right now he stepped on the elevator and pressed to go down. Walking out the door and straight to his car in the garage. When he finally reached his car and sat down it all hit him. His stomach felt heavy yet empty, but also like it was twisted in knots. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to calm down a little, tears threatening to spill behind his eyes. Blinking rapidly to push them back. There was no need for tears. You went on one date, he shouldn’t be this attached, yet he is. From the moment he had entered your lab he had been awestruck. Then, in the following week, he had started rambling and feared he had messed up by doing so. Yet you just smiled, asked more questions, let him ramble and rant about everything and anything. Content to hear him speak. He didn’t feel like an annoyance.

Spencer sighed, putting his key in the ignition and turning it, the song that came on was still on the same radio station that you had put it on, depeche mode sounding through the speakers. Quickly, his hand reached out, changing the station to anything else. Not wanting to be reminded of you immediately. He pulled out of the parking lot, driving home, a welcome distraction from his thoughts. When he got home though, he felt completely drained. Placing his bag near the front door, dropping the jacket over it. Toeing off his shoes before walking further into the apartment. He sat down on the couch. Once again alone with his thoughts. He leaned his head back, resting it against the top of the couch as he closed his eyes again. Rubbing his eyes with another sigh.

He wondered what it could be. What the reason for your coldness was. The fact that you seemed reluctant about it just made it weirder. He cursed himself for being able to read your expressions, your movements, to deduct anything from your behavior. He wished he didn’t know because it would have made it so much easier to be angry with you. To feel betrayed, led on, or even used. Instead he knew that you were just as torn up about what happened as he was. It made it feel even worse. He knew there was a reason, but the fact you were not willing to tell him hit the wrong nerve. Eyes opened on the ceiling, the faded green color perfect to get lost in. He didn’t know how long he stayed like that. Head tilted back, looking at the ceiling as his mind was both working over time and thinking of nothing. A weird combination of feeling too full yet completely empty. Watching the shadows stretch further and further, slowly fading until there were no longer any shadows cast on his ceiling. It was just dark. 

That’s what it was like. The night taking over the sunny feeling he had felt. An end coming to the light he had felt for the past two weeks. The nocturnal cold setting into his body. How he hated the realization that dawned on him that moment. He didn’t just like you. He had fallen all at once, during that first meeting, without realizing. Now it was too late to tell you. He doubted you even felt the same. So now he was left to suffer the heartbreak on his own. To deal with the conflicting emotions you left him with. 

At least the night was quiet enough for him to think.

Tag list: @luvkatryna @emma-e-a @littlemadamred @cultish-corner @styleiconsize0 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @depressedbutartsy @mikariell95 @jasf444 @queermaxwooo @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @sammy-4103 @thedevioussmirk @pleasantwitchgarden @khxna

[meistwentyinchheels]

having many thoughts about percy (he drives me insane) idk what the kf devs put into this man, but i swear i'm addicted. like the more i learn about him the more obsessed i become,,,i think i'm mentally ill

anyways since i think a lot about him (and my kf mc, may. might actually drop a lore post on her at some point) i will now be sharing some of those thoughts. also have a strong feeling this post is gonna end up pretty long just as a heads up lmfao

also a lot of this is just speculation on my part and me trying my best to analyze the little amount of information we have as of the moment. just as a disclaimer, anyways!

out of the three love interests i genuinely think percy might be the angstiest route for the following reasons (under the cut):

like first off, the devs have mentioned in the past that one of the routes will have a forced breakup to serve the greater narrative (this was mentioned a really long time ago tho so it might've been subject to change, but since we have nothing that proves otherwise i am running with it.) and i do not believe in any way that it could be elio,,,unless the devs decide to throw us a curveball lmao jamie is still an option and he was my first thought when i found out about the breakup route, butttt i doubt it'd be him. so from process of elimination that only leaves percy. he's also the only one out of the lis that has been in relationships before and judging from past asks i'm assumingggg that those past experiences most likely still affect him.

second, every single mention of his family has been vague at best and there's been ZERO mention of his mother. in the asks only his dad has ever been mentioned and also in the studying event if u go off with percy and elio, go to check out the polo club and choose to stay back with percy he'll mention that he moved to the states with his dad. normally people would mention both parents, but percy didn't so it's likely his parents divorced at some point? also i had a whole ass supposedly sound argument here, but it got disproven bc apparently his step-dad also came with them to the states??? like yes it does still prove that his parents r divorced, but it can also imply he has 2 dads. that's so funny i love it. okay moving onto my actual point!!! since percy is a child of divorce it's likely also affected his view of love and romantic relationships. possibly in a skewed way, but who knows so that does add to the angst factor QUITE a bit

finally, percy's avoidant and deferring nature. during the festival event if you split up and then go to check out the festival games you end up running into percy, which is when the game tells you that he tends to defer to what others want and seems to be perkier exploring the games by himself. there's also a few occasions in-game where if the mc tries to ask percy about himself he tends to either A. brush the topic off or B. push the attention onto someone else (usually elio?). so i'd assume that he dislikes talking about himself? which would mean it would take him a good while to open up. which isn't inherently a bad thing, but it can also cause communication issues so. sigh.

is this flimsy evidence? yes! but do i care? no! also i would do a deeper dive into this if i was actually good at analyzing character behaviors,,,and if not for the fact that at the time i'm writing this it's 1am on a school night. there's also so many other things i could have talked about!!! like his name!!! maybe some other day. so like. do with all this information what you will. bc i certainly will!!! i have so many ideas!! many angsty notes!!! be prepared.

[from-the-clouds]

bad liars (savior complex ii) - joel miller x f!reader

part one | masterlist | song inspo |

Baby, you're a vampire You want blood and I promised...

summary: It's been a month since Joel has last seen you, fully healed since your last interaction. But you haven't spoken...at all. Your radio silence becomes cause for concern when he hears about an outbreak of Infected at the hospital where you work. There's enough explanation in this part that you could read it on it's own, probably, but I'd highly recommend reading part one first to get the full experience. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 7.9k warnings: SMUT - 18+ ONLY, minors DNI. (porn w/ plot, unprotected sex, oral, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, age gap. dom/sub dynamics.) Heavy angst, multiple POVs, implied drug abuse, alcohol use, canon-typical suffering! Blood mention. Both reader/Joel are insanely emotionally unavailable, and love to lie to themselves and each other! (please dm for specifics if you have any questions). a/n: Ya'll loved savior complex and I'm so happy! Literally don't think I've had a fic get that many notes before, i had so many requests for a part two and because it felt like i left things open-ended enough, this came to me pretty easily! It might be the horniest thing I've ever written and also very angsty (what's new?)....but I think you'll like the ending <3 Special to @ay0nha for letting me yell at you about my writing and to @zbeez-outlet for the wonderful idea.

Joel exhales and runs his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair – the tips of which were frozen together from standing outside for so long. It had gotten cold out. Very cold. Boston always did this time of year, and because of it, people stayed in, and crime in the QZ dropped, making it a safer place - though that wasn’t saying much. 

Of course, the cold didn’t stop him from dealing. It did make his job a hell of a lot more difficult, since FEDRA was bored, out looking for trouble, and didn’t have more pressing matters to attend to. Although today, he must’ve been in luck, because the only sign of FEDRA had been helicopters and tanks that were clearly on a mission, driving to the opposite side of the QZ. Good, he had thought. A distraction. 

Joel leans back against the brick wall of the alleyway, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his ears, stares at the ice in the cracks of the pavement. When he hears the crunch of gravel underfoot, he straightens.

The man approaching looks nervously over his shoulder, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his flimsy sweatshirt. Dave, a customer of his for some time. 

“You’re late,” Joel doesn’t bother with a proper greeting.

“I know, I know, I got held up on my way here,” Dave answers, immediately beginning his excuse. “They cleared out the hospital because of an outbreak, that whole area was locked down so I had to take the long way.”

“Outbreak?” Joel tilts his head.

“Infected. I guess a bunch of hospital staff got bit. FEDRA had to go in and put them all down.” 

Joel feels a distant pang of concern somewhere in the back of his head. “How many?”

Dave shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know, man, that’s all I know. It’s not like they’ll ever tell anyone what actually happened.”

Joel can’t help but think of you. He knows a couple people who work at the hospital, most of them through smuggling, but you’re the only one who he’s really able to bring to mind at the moment.

“So, can we, uh…”

Joel pulls the plastic baggie out from his pockets, fishing out the pills. On his end, Dave produces a wad of credits, his shoulders sagging in relief once they’ve made the trade and the drugs are in his hand. He takes one immediately, shoves the rest in his pocket. “Thanks man, I’ll see you next week?”

Leaning back against the wall, he nods, and watches his customer disappear down the alleyway. 

The second Dave is out of sight, Joel’s chest tightens, and he takes a deep breath. There’s no reason why news of Infected at the hospital should concern him. If FEDRA had been called in – they would’ve gunned down anything that moved until it was under control. He knew, better than anyone, that they would do unspeakable things in the name of keeping order. Innocent people probably died, but the dead can’t get infected.

It had been about a month since Joel had last seen you, after he’d gotten beaten within an inch of his life and ended up on your doorstep, and you were the only person that could help. It hadn’t gone at all how he expected it would – at the end of the day, he had been surprised by your tenderness. 

Still, despite that you’d let him take you on the edge of your bed, legs wrapped around him, bouncing on his cock, he wouldn’t really say that it changed anything about your relationship. He had actually been kind of afraid that it would, that your attitude towards him would shift to something more amicable.

But you hadn’t spoken to him in a month. Joel had told you he owed you one after you stitched him up, and had anticipated that you’d take him up on his offer pretty quickly. There were so many things he could do for you to make your situation better. Maybe you’d need credits…. Medicine…. Food…. Booze… Pills, something, but you haven’t reached out. You could just be biding your time until you really need the favor.

Still, the radio silence takes him aback. He should be relieved that you aren’t talking to him. But nothing? Even if it’s not about a favor…he wants some kind of confirmation that you’d both made a mistake. After all that, did you really expect nothing from him?

It dawns on him there’s now a chance you’ll never speak to him again, because you’re one of the ones that FEDRA killed. Or worse….you had gotten bit. 

Joel passes by the hospital, taking the long way home. Everything is locked down, taped off. There’s a crowd around the place – family members, he assumes, pleading with FEDRA agents for information and getting nothing in return.

“Go home. I’m sure they’ll turn up,” he hears one of them say to a weeping woman. It’s useless to ask for an honest answer, for one of them to actually care. 

Joel could go home. He could crush a couple pills, snort them, and quell the burn with a couple drinks. He could fall into restless sleep and wake up the next day as he always did, go about his business as usual. Survive. One day at a time. 

Would he ever get confirmation that you’re alive? Because at this rate, he’s not sure he’ll ever know either way. 

The feeling is going to linger. He hates it. Were you gone? If you are, he can handle knowing. Its somehow worse not to. 

He tries to justify it to himself. You’re one of his solid connections to the hospital, you’d traded with him for medical supplies before. This is business, really, if he thinks about it that way. If you’re dead, he and Tess need to find someone else to work with. 

Joel decides to take a detour on the way back to his place.

It’s past curfew when he arrives at your apartment, the sun has long since dipped below the horizon and with that comes an even harsher cold. Boston winters, he thinks to himself. If he is capable of missing anything, he’d say he missed Texas. Before all this, the last place he’d be caught dead was on the East Coast. 

Joel raps on your front door. He forgets how shitty your building is, that you sleep here alone every night, listening to your neighbors arguing through the thin walls, shady characters slinking out of shadows in the dimly-lit hallway,

A few seconds pass. When he hears nothing behind your door, he knocks again, a little louder. 

More time passes. He knocks again, louder. Maybe you didn’t hear him. 

Nothing. He does it again. Could you be asleep? His jaw clenches.

Still nothing, and Joel knocks even louder. Maybe you’re not even here, and you work nights, and he’s just missed you as you head out for another shift. But he knows that’s unlikely. Since he’s known you, you’ve never worked nights. So where the fuck were you?

Joel’s pounds on your door, yells your name into its chipping paint. He listens for something, anything, on the other side, and there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, but he keeps going The side of his fist starts to hurt, but he can’t stop himself. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until he hears one of your neighbors yelling from the end of the hallway. 

‘Shut the fuck up!’

Joel doesn’t hear exactly where the voice comes from, but it’s enough to snap him out of it. He halts his movements, his forehead falling against hollow wood, and in the silence, hears his heart pounding in his ears. 

“Fuck!” he kicks the wall just outside the frame of your door so hard the drywall gives, leaving a hole behind. “Fuck.”

He stares at the result of his outburst for an undetermined amount of time. You were all alone. To his knowledge, you had no immediate family to inform. Who would be around to remember you? He’d never really know for sure what had happened. 

“Joel?”

He looks up, his hands still clenched tightly into fists. When he sees that it’s you, standing at the end of the hallway, they loosen. 

You look horrible - haggard, tired, your hair tangled and matted. As you move closer to him, he doesn’t miss the way your shoulders are hunched underneath the weight of your backpack. But once you’re standing in front of him, you straighten, lift your chin. 

“What is this?” you ask. “What are you doing here?”

There’s no animosity in your tone, he thinks. You might be trying to put some in there, but you don’t have the energy to do so, so it just comes out sounding very flat.

Joel realizes, suddenly, that he doesn’t have a reason. A real reason that wouldn’t….give him away. He puts his hands on his hips, thinks desperately. You do nothing to help.

When he settles in silence, offers you nothing, you just sigh and shake your head. Your teeth are chattering, lips cracked from the cold, and you seem desperate to get into shelter, twisting your key into your lock and opening the front door. Once you step inside, you flick on the lights. He follows you, closes the door behind you both, and locks it.

“Oh, yeah, come on in, I guess,” you say over your shoulder. 

Joel crosses his arms, standing in your kitchen. 

“What, am I in trouble or something?” you ask. “Because if I am, you’re gonna have to wait until I’ve showered.”

“It can wait,” Joel says, and sits at one of your kitchen chairs. 

You shrug off of your backpack and leave it on a chair, then unbutton your coat, tossing it on top. Joel swallows hard when he sees the damage it’s been hiding. Your scrubs are dirty, tattered in some places, one of the sleeves hanging, partially ripped off. And they’re covered in dried blood. It’s smeared on your arms, on the back of your neck. Not yours, he hopes. 

What the fuck happened to you? You don’t turn to see his reaction, don’t look over your shoulder to see if he’s going to ask about it. It’s almost like he’s not even there, and you clearly wish he isn’t. 

He realizes then, that he has the confirmation he’s looking for. You made it out alive. He doesn’t actually need anything else from you. And you’ve given him a perfect out. He can leave while you’re in the shower. 

But he doesn’t. Not when he hears the shower start, or the screech of the curtain across the metal rod, the sound of water hitting the basin. He stays there, motionless, until you duck out of the bathroom with your arms wrapped around yourself, wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants, hair damp and teeth chattering. 

You pad with bare feet onto the tiled area of the kitchen, brushing past him. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” he asks. 

You finally look at him, like you’re surprised he spoke up, or even asked the question. A choked, bitter laugh leaves you, and you shift your attention away from him, reaching into your cabinet for a bottle of bourbon. “Pass.”

You pour yourself a whiskey, and Joel watches you throw it back in one go, your nose scrunching up, your hand clasping into a fist as you take the shot. The taste doesn’t stop you from pouring another drink and gulping that one down, too, without as much of a reaction as the first. It’s only when you start pouring the third that he intervenes, standing and crossing the room to cover the glass with his hand before you can grab it. 

“Slow down,” he says.

“I know you’re not telling me what to do in my own home.” Your mouth opens as you look up at him, incredulous. 

Joel looks past you, shakes his head. He supposes your right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to watch the self-destructive behavior, which is funny considering how often he engages in it himself. He gives in, removes his hand from your glass. “At least…pour me one. You shouldn’t drink alone.”

Your expression softens slightly, and he’s able to see all the pain you’re hiding, just for a flash, before you turn to retrieve a second glass from your cabinet. 

Once you hand him the whiskey, he sits in the middle of the tiny loveseat you’ve got in your front room, expecting you to sit in the armchair across from it. Instead, you approach with your own drink, nudge his knee with your own, and Joel slides over to make room so you can fall onto the couch beside him. Much closer than he’d expected. 

It’s surprisingly good bourbon, and he wonders how many times you’d wasted it by downing it like you just had, instead of taking your time, savoring. He waits for you to get settled before he speaks again.

“What happened to you?” he tries once more, a little softer this time. 

There’s some contemplation on your end, you look at him for a moment, then at your glass, then back up at him again. He can almost see you trying to figure out how much you’re going to share, but he wants to know everything.

“There was an accident at the hospital,” you answer, finally. 

Joel slings his arm over the back of the couch, angles his body towards where you’re curled up, legs tucked underneath you. I’m listening.

Your voice stays even, blase. “A guard at the border broke protocol…and someone who was infected was brought in. By the time we realized, it was too late….”

“Were you hurt?” 

“Almost.” you say. “I mean, yes, actually, I’m a little scratched up, but…it’s not as bad as it could’ve been.”

Your teeth start chattering again. Joel wonders if it’s because of the cold, or your nerves. Figures it’s probably both.

“My coworker turned and I uhm….I had to…” you say into your glass, your free hand flexing like it’s trying to shake off some unpleasant muscle memory. “I had no choice.”

“I understand,” For whatever reason, he spares you from telling the story. To him, taking down Infected was nothing. But to you…“What else?” he presses.

You shrug, avoiding his eyes, one of your arms coming to grip at your opposite shoulder. “I can’t really remember. A bunch of people died. FEDRA came in and just started gunning everything down….” you shook your head, and straightened up.

“I heard about that,” Joel offers.

“Wait…you knew about this?”

“Yeah.”

“So then why are you here, asking m-” the rest of your sentence drops off, your lips parted slightly. The look on your face shifts, slowly. Your eyes narrow. Remorse turns into something more neutral, then into curiosity. “Oh my god….you were worried about me.”

“No.”

“Yes, you fucking were,” your lips curl slightly, it’s not quite a smile, but it’s something close to amusement. 

“No,” Joel defends himself. “I wanted to hear what happened from someone–”

“No you didn’t,” you interject, but he raises his voice to finish his thought.

“–who actually works there, not FEDRA’s propaganda.”

“No you did not. You’re checking up on me. You came over here after curfew to see if I was–”

“Enough,” Joel growls with enough conviction that it shuts you up, and he’s grateful, but its not enough to wipe the self-satisfied look on your face, because it doesn’t.

“What are we, like, friends now?”

He doesn’t answer, and slugs back the rest of his whiskey.

“Or would that be too much for you?” You don’t wait long for him to give you an answer, probably because you know he won’t respond. “I mean, if we’re both being honest–” He definitely wasn’t being honest. “–Today was really fucked up.”

You’re leaning forward now, some of the space between you is gone. And though you’re trying to give the impression that you’re unphased by everything, your hand is clenched tightly around your glass, and you avoid his eyes. It’s painful to watch you resist the urge to trust him. Not that he’s ever given you a good enough reason to – he knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he wants it anyways.

“It’s funny…” you say after a while. “I remember thinking that I didn’t want to die. At least… not like that. I’ve never felt that before…That’s something, isn’t it?” you ask him. 

Joel looks at you, and is surprised at the vulnerability in your expression, sees you looking for some kind of validation from him. “....It is.” 

You finish off your drink, and put the empty glass on the coffee table, shift closer to him.

“It looks like you healed up okay,” you say, after a spell. “How’s your shoulder?”

“A little sore, nothing I can’t handle.”

“Did you take those antibiotics?”

“Yes.”

“Good. And I can’t even tell you had a black eye.”

“I’m fine,” Joel asserts. 

Another shiver wracks your body, and he can tell this one is actually from the chill – your apartment is cold as fuck, it even is starting to bother him. 

“Don’t you have a heater?”

“Kinda,” you glance over at the radiator in the corner. “Sometimes it works.”

“What do you do when it’s colder than this?” It was only November, things would only get worse. 

You shrug. “I don’t know….just be colder, I guess.”

Joel imagines you curled up in your bed alone, wrapped in a thin comforter, shaking in front of him like you are now. He winces. 

“How long are you going to stay?” you ask, changing the subject.

“I should probably go now.”

You nod, scoot closer. “But maybe…” you trail off, contemplating. 

Joel sits up straighter, prompting you when you don’t speak again. “Maybe what?”

“Maybe you could stick around for a little while longer.” There’s a warm hand, yours, that lands on his thigh, and he recoils like you’ve touched him with a fire iron. He rises to his feet. 

“Hey,” you stand along with him, step in front of him to block the pathway to the door. He could easily get past you, obviously, but it’s not as simple as that. 

Of course he’s fucking thought about what happened the last time he was here – his arms around your waist, his mouth on your neck, your chest, your hands on his shoulders, whining his name. A freak accident, a glitch in the matrix, a statistically improbable thing. 

“What?” he asks as you step forward, the fingers on your free hand sliding into the belt loops of his pants. He feels blood rush to his cheeks, to other places. And you’re still fucking shivering. You look so fucking miserable, he wants to yell at you to put on a coat, to wrap yourself in a blanket, in his arms. 

“Joel,” you say his name softly, tilting your head up, leaning close. And then your hand is on the side of his face, and he realizes you’re fucking pleading with him. He knows what you want, but he has a feeling this isn’t just about sex. You’re looking for comfort, as if he’s capable of giving it. 

“We made a mistake…once,” he tells you. “We’re not going to make it again.”

He says it to hurt you, but it doesn’t work. It’s like you knew it was coming all along. “I knew what I was doing,” you answer, earnest. “Didn’t you?”

Yes. You glance down at his hands, which are squeezed into fists so tightly, his knuckles are white. If he’s not rigid, he’s not sure how he’ll be able to resist. He wants you. God, he wants you. He never thought he’d be able to have you again. 

“I could help you loosen up.”

Joel’s walking on the edge of a one-thousand foot cliff and hoping his foot slips. He wants to surrender. The only thing he thinks might save him is to say the meanest thing he can. Maybe you’d get turned off.

“Listen to yourself,” he says, finding the strength to meet your eyes. “You want me so bad, you sound pathetic.”

“Asshole,” you step closer, your mouth twitches, your lips are inches apart. “Do you think I care what you think about me?”

Joel realizes his plan has backfired. But he really only has himself to blame, he should’ve known better. With you, he’s never in as much control as he wants to be, and deep down, he likes it. 

“Go lie down on the bed.”

It’s the only thing that seems to shock you. “What?” 

“I won’t ask you again,” Joel steps backwards, crosses his arms. “Go lie down.” 

──────

If you told yourself a couple months ago that one day you’d find yourself pinned down by Joel Miller, you’d think it’d be because he was about to kill you. Maybe because you cheated him out of something, maybe because you did something else to piss him off – it didn’t really matter. Regardless of how fucked up it was, that idea would seem more dignified than what was happening now. 

Your back is being pressed deeper into the lumpy old mattress, and he’s on you. His mouth is warm, hot, wet, and dragging down your neck, nipping, sucking, licking. Your hands are itching to reach out, to skate down his torso, trace along his jawline, tug at his hair, but you can’t because he’s got them pinned above you with only one of his own. Anytime you try to fight him, his grip only grows stronger. 

It was shameful, really, but you had asked for this – begged for it, basically. There were a number of reasons why – one of which was to blow off some steam after a near death experience, the other because you’d fucked him before and it had been good, much to your dismay. There was also a third reason that you weren’t interested in acknowledging now. 

After the night Joel had gotten jumped, and you’d taken care of him, everything has changed. It’s a cliche, but true. You’d known what you were doing when it happened, and had no regrets. But it was probably not supposed to happen again, and you tried to keep it that way, more for his sake than anyone else’s. But….he was the one who showed up tonight after he’d heard what had happened. It wasn’t nothing.

Joel pulls away from you so abruptly that you gasp, shivering in the wake of his impossible warmth. 

“Sit up,” he instructs, and you turn to find him at the end of the bed, arms crossed. 

You obey, mostly just for the view. You hope to admire him, fresh from kissing you – flush skin, wet lips, tousled hair. Only he’s frustratingly stoic, unsullied – like he hadn’t been touching you at all. 

“Look at me,” he says, and you do. 

“This doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s nothing,” you agree. 

“I won’t be gentle.”

“I don’t want you to be gentle.”

“Good,” you watch his shoulders loosen, just a little, and he takes one step backwards, his eyes tracing down your body and then back up. “Strip for me….” 

You aren’t dressed sexy at all, you remember, a sweatshirt and sweatpants. If you had thought this through a little more, you might’ve tried to make it nicer for him. “....Okay.”

“Start with your shirt,” he says, and you grab at the hem, but he snaps at you. “Ah-ah….slower.”

You swallow, nod, and carefully lift the fabric, dragging it up over your stomach, over the swell of your breasts, revealing your tight, thin white tank top. 

“That’s it, nice and slow.” 

Joel’s voice is soft but stern, a low rasp that makes your cunt clench around nothing, and he’s not even touching you. The sweatshirt is pulled over your head, falling somewhere on the crumpled bedspread. 

Languidly, you lean back, shifting your weight to get off the mattress, and Joel palms himself through his jeans. You can see where he’s straining against the denim, and you find it hard to tear your gaze away as you go to pull off your sweatpants. Joel stops you again. 

“Turn around.”

You do, and you’re sure he has a nice view of your ass as you slide them over your hips, bending over to let the fleece pool around your ankles. Slowly, you rise back up, looking at him over your shoulder for approval. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs. Your stomach flips. A month ago, you would’ve done anything to get him to stay away from you, and now, you’re terrified to disappoint him. 

That’s the problem. You’d spent most of the day fighting for your life — literally. But even after standing behind a barricade of heavily-armed FEDRA soldiers outside the hospital, you didn’t feel as safe as you did when you saw Joel at your door. You need him. For now, at least.

“Now the shirt,” he tilts his head towards the mattress, nodding encouragingly.

You get back on the bed, sitting back on your heels, and begin to pull the tank top up. It’s your last layer up top, you’re not wearing a bra, and you’re feeling a little vulnerable with him just watching you, fully clothed and composed, your gaze falling down to look at the threadbare linens. 

“Eyes up,” he instructs. “Look at me.”

Taking in a shaky inhale, you do. It’s not easy. Everything about him looks dark, animalistic. A coiled ball of energy, waiting to pounce.

But, even when you’re bare before him, he doesn’t. 

“Lie back, close your eyes.”

Of course, you don’t refuse, settling your head against the pillows. 

There’s a sound of a belt – his belt, unbuckling, the snap of a button, the dip of the bed where he kneels when he comes to hover over you. Two hands land on top of your thighs, pressing the backs against his denim-clad knees, thumbs pushing your legs further apart. 

And then…nothing. He’s still. He’s still for so long, that you actually think that something’s wrong. When you open your eyes, you’re met with a view of the underside of his jaw. You can just make out the pinched expression he’s wearing as he looks down upon you. Disdain, maybe…but it’s not meant for you, it’s for someone else….him.

“Joel,” you murmur. Instinctually, you reach for his hand.

The second it makes contact, he smacks your hand away so hard your whole body jolts. “I told you to close your eyes.”

“Sorry,” you mumble quickly, closing them again. 

You are well aware that he’s actively working through shit, probably doing some kind of mental gymnastics to rationalize why it’s okay to fuck you again, which, when you really think about it is kind of….pathetic. It’s the only thing that makes you feel any sort of power in a situation where you’ll surrender everything else. It’s a fair exchange. 

Maybe, on a different day, you would want it softer. You’d like to think he’s capable of that, even though he seems determined he isn’t. Luckily, you don’t want it softer. After today, you want to be so far gone you can’t think. 

Joel answers by leaning down and catching you in a bruising kiss. Finally. You press yourself against him cause you’re freezing and he’s so warm, and you frantically begin to unbutton the flannel he’s wearing, making it about halfway down before he pins your hands above you again.

“Slow down.”

You whine, a little frustrated because all you want to do is touch him. The fingers on his free hand hook around the elastic of your underwear, and he starts to drag them over the curve of your ass. 

He’s got to be joking with how deliberately he’s moving, anticipation only building underneath his featherlight touches.

When he’s got your panties around your ankles, you slide your legs together so he can pull them off entirely, keeping them closed as his weight shifts, and your thighs are pulled back apart.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he doesn’t need to feel you to see it clear as day, with you spread open in front of him. “So fucking desperate.”

He’s all-but glaring at you, like you’ve done something wrong, and for a minute, your eyes flick away, just for a second of relief from the tension.

“What, are you embarrassed?” he asks. 

“N-no,” you stammer, though it was supposed to sound confident. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t press you, his head dipping down to press his lips to your knee, then an inch higher, then an inch higher, then higher – keeping his eyes locked on yours the whole time, an arm winding around your thigh.

“I wanted to do this last time.” A confession. 

“Yeah?” you sigh, trembling. It’s maybe the nicest thing he’s said to you, but you can’t even acknowledge it, because you’re buzzing.

He turns his face, his beard scraping along sensitive skin. “Mhm,” his deep rasp vibrates directly to your cunt, and when his head dips down, you close your eyes – it might just be better to focus on only one sensation at a time, you’re not sure you can handle seeing what he’s about to do.

Joel’s mouth is on you the second you do, and you gasp. He licks up the seam of your lips, mouth latching around your clit, swirling with his tongue, and back down – firm, determined, practiced. You try to buck up, but he has an arm locked around your hips. 

He removes himself from you just enough to utter two words. “Stay still.”

You want to protest, but you realize that he’s let go of your hands, and it gives you the opportunity to thread your fingers into his hair, while you dig your heels into the broad expanse of his back, and he groans, tongue curling into you. 

“I’ve thought about this,” you gasp, answering his earlier admission.

“When?”

“At night. More than once.”

“Fuck,” Joel growls, and you wheeze when he works one finger into you, forcing you to take it along with his next words. “You know how fuckin’ bad that is? Dreamin’ about a man nearly twice your age?”

“I d-don’t care, I want you anyway. Y-you can do whatever you want to me,” It’s too early to be past the point of speaking coherently, it really is, but you’re already there. 

“F-fuck,” Joel repeats himself, and pushes another finger inside you next to the first, the stretch almost uncomfortable, but quickly fading to pleasure. “I’m going to.”

You’re not the going to tell him, though, that he’s the first man whose ever gone down on you, because you’re a little fucking scared for some reason. It’s intimate, very intimate, more than you expected. 

The truth is, you weren’t actually very experienced at all. You could count on one hand the number of partners you’d had, and still not use all of your fingers. While some of them were good enough, they all paled in comparison to Joel. There had never been anyone like Joel. 

His fingers curl as his tongue swirls around your clit and you cry out, inhale sharply. Minute by minute, you’re getting wetter and wetter – can hear yourself with each twist of his fingers inside you, bearing down on him. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he grunts, and your eyes flutter open just for a second, just to see his forehead, dark eyes staring back at you, and his hips dipping, rutting against the mattress. God he’s getting himself off to this. As hot as it is, the thought of not getting to feel him inside you causes a rush of anger. 

“F-feels so good,” you’re right there, already, and it’s pitiful.

“I know, baby, I know,” he says. “You’re already so close, aren’t you?”

Instead of answering, you just nod, gasping. Joel works you right up to the precipice, hands tightening in his hair, hips lifting off the bed – and then he slows a little –  just enough – to pull you back off the edge, and you let out a humiliating sob.

“Shhh!” he hisses with his mouth still on you, resuming the steady pace he had going. A little sigh of relief when you feel your release approaching again. He just lost his rhythm for a moment, it was nothing.

Again, he’s got you right there, you’re so close, hips jerking, breathing in short, sharp pants, something molten working its way up your spine. “Joel, that’s it, please I-”

He falters again – just enough. And it’s gone again.

You realize, with dismay, that he knows exactly what he’s doing. He hadn’t lost his rhythm. He’s doing this on purpose. 

If someone asked – not that anyone would – you wouldn’t be able to recall how long he keeps you in that state, being dragged and dangled, but denied the privilege of falling. It’s torture. 

And at first, you try to be patient. You figure he’ll grow tired, desperate, and eventually want to move on. But apparently, he doesn’t want to move on. He’s content to keep you this way for as long as he sees fit, and you can’t handle it any longer. It’s starting to hurt.

“Please, Joel, let me-” you gasp.

“Let you what?” he pulls back from you, frustratingly too soon, once again.

“Let me come, please, I’ll do anything, I’ll be good, please, please-”

“Just a little longer,” he dismisses you.

All you can do is pant and writhe, completely at his mercy. He keeps going like that, and you’ve stopped trying to filter yourself, the sounds he makes as he laves at you are obscene, you can see yourself glistening on his chin, and can feel the sheets damp beneath you. At this point, he’s enjoying this more than you are.

“Joel,” you plead with him again. “It’s too much, I c-can’t. Just, please I really need-”

“You wanna come for me, baby?” he asks. You nod ferociously. 

“Yes, please, please,” 

“You’re so fucking sweet when you beg, you know that? ” he murmurs. “Wish you were like this all the time.”

“Fuck off,” you manage, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. You should do this to me more often. 

Joel chuckles, and it vibrates just right, his fingers curling again and you moan, hands tightening in his hair. He’s focused now, you can tell because the constant stream of filth he’s been whispering has finally stopped. He’s persistent.

You’re unable to stay quiet, continuing to whimper just like that and please don’t stop over and over. And then all at once, every muscle in your body grows tense and you cry out, cunt pulsing around him so tightly that his fingers slow. “There you go, pretty girl, that’s it.” 

You whisper his name as he continues to fuck his fingers into you, riding you through your orgasm and licking up the mess you’ve made. 

At some point in the aftermath, Joel withdraws from you, and you hear the sting of his zipper. It takes a moment, but you’re able to see him through heavily lidded eyes, kneeling in front of you with his shirt unbuttoned all the way, pants around his ankles, jerking himself slowly in his hand. God he’s fucking huge, how had you forgotten about that? He’s a vision, beard still wet with you, looking down, watching your chest rise and fall. In that moment you realize two things. One, even though you’ve already come, you somehow want him even more than you had before, and two, you’ve never wanted to suck a dick so bad in your life. 

So you sit up, crawl towards him, and reach out with one hand to take him in your palm. He lets you, sighing, closing down his eyes. First, you have to kiss him, so you rise to your knees, and he pulls you into his arms, one of them winding around your waist, the other coming to rest at the small of your back. “You take such good care of me,” you whisper. 

He grimaces at the words like they’re an insult. You expect him to retaliate, to tell you that you shouldn’t say that sort of thing, but he never does. So you kiss him, gently, bringing your free hand to the side of his face. Once again, he lets you, and you taste yourself when his tongue presses into you mouth. You run your thumb over the head of his cock, and he hums against your touch, almost contentedly.

You’re doing whatever you want to him, and you’re shocked he hasn’t put a stop to it. It could be satisfying enough, you think, just to keep kissing him like this. Still, you sink back towards the bed to test things further. You’re about to wrap your mouth around him, but he pulls you off by your hair, so quickly, so hard that you yelp.

“No.” he says firmly. “Lie back.”

“But I just wanted to-”  

“No.” 

You consider trying to reason with him, but decide it won’t be worth whatever he’d do if you continue to argue.

Joel braces himself with one hand above your shoulder, the other wrapped around his cock, slowly teasing you by rubbing himself up and down a few times, before he gives in, finally pushing into you.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp at the stretch, reaching out grasp at his bicep, arching your back. He’d prepped you, and it was still too much. 

“You can take it,” he says, pressing deeper into you. His hips are all the way flush with yours, he’s to the hilt, and he still snaps them even further, once, holding you there, so deep, you feel like you’re choking on him. “See? There you go.”

It seems like you can’t quite catch your breath, and you squirm underneath him for some kind of friction, some kind of relief from how intense it all is. You can feel him throbbing inside you, feel how badly his own body is begging him to move, but he doesn’t. 

“Joel,” you cradle the back of his head, look him in the eyes. “Move, please.”

He doesn’t answer, he just brings his hand to grip your jaw, his thumb and forefinger pressing into the soft flesh of your cheeks. 

“Please?” you murmur again, and his thumb slips into your mouth, silencing you. You suck on it obediently, and after you do, he finally gives you what you want.

──────

Joel told you he wouldn’t be gentle, and he isn’t. 

He hadn’t been able to do this last time. Taste you, spread you open, fuck you properly. His hips snap against yours – ferociously, unrelenting, over and over. You’ve been going at it for awhile now, and he actually wants you to break. He wants you to tell him to slow down, to be a little more tender, not press into you so deep, so hard, so that if he listens, it wouldn’t mean he’s breaking his own promise. He’s got to be rough with you, because he’s afraid of what could happen if he’s not.

But you don’t break. You fucking take it, take him, each time, again and again, your nails digging into arms, your legs locked around his hips. Each time he delves into you, you’re getting wetter and wetter, and yet, you’re still so fucking tight. He doesn’t understand it. It’s been a long fucking time since he’s been with a woman like you – and you might be the best he’s ever had. 

You’re not even making any noise – you’re just panting, gasping in Joel’s ear as you cling to him, and that’s all. He can’t even look you in the eyes. If he does, he knows you’ll see everything that’s wrong with him, and still beg for him to give you more. 

Two hands land on either side of his face, turning his head so you can kiss him. Despite how he’s treating you, you keep trying to connect, to ground yourself. For as much as he wants to refuse, it feels too cruel to deny you. He lets you lock your lips with his own, feels your cunt clutch him even tighter. It’s impossible for you to kiss for more than a few seconds at a time without it getting broken up by a whimper here and there. You’re getting close again, he’s started to get better at recognizing it.

“You’re fucking so perfect on me, baby, you feel that?” he asks, and you nod, breathless. “Taking me so well, such a good fucking girl-”

A gasp from you cuts him off, your eyes squeezing shut as you are taken over by your climax. Joel groans and does everything he can not to come when you start pulsing around him, holding him closer, since there’s nothing else to do. It’s way too intimate…because it’s missionary, and he should’ve known better than to start off like this. 

Pulling out of you is the hardest thing he’s had to do in a while, and he ignores your noises of protest now that he’s left you empty. Then, he flips you onto your stomach. He takes a moment to admire the curve of your ass, how it dips into your waist….to him, your body is perfect, and you’re young, your skin still supple and smooth. There are still places he hasn’t gotten his mouth on, and it’s a shame, he thinks, but tonight his patience is wearing thin. Joel pulls you back until you’re on your knees, and slides back inside. There’s a little resistance, you whimper, but it’s easier than the first time. He wraps an arm around your waist, the other across your chest, and starts to jerk his hips upwards, into you. 

“Oh fuck, Joel,” you sigh in relief.

“I know, I know.”

You drop your head back until it falls against his shoulder, winding your arm back so you can pull at his hair, which kind of fucking hurts, but he likes it. 

Ultimately, you’re pretty easy to please, and it’s not long before he feels the telltale flutter of your walls as you drip down over him, soaking his lap. 

“You’re making a fucking mess, baby. You gonna come for me again?”

All you can do is plead with him. “I can’t, Joel. I can’t do it again, please just-”

“Yes, you can,” he interjects. “I know you can, baby, don’t worry…I’ll help you.”

“O-okay.’ 

He slows the roll of his hips just a little, focuses on deeper, longer strokes, and lets the hand that’s currently squeezing one of your tits fall to where your bodies are joined, finding your clit immediately.

You whine, arching back against him, the swell of your ass packed against his lower stomach. He sees a single tear leaking from the corner of your eye and feels a little guilty for what he’s doing to you. Only a little, though. 

Without any warning, for the third time, you’re coming around him – easier than the last time, like always – and he uses the feeling of you throbbing around him to chase his own release, his hand clapping over your mouth to muffle your moans as he becomes increasingly frantic. 

He turns his head, rakes his teeth along your exposed neck, and sinks them into your pulse point with a groan. Your breath is hot against him when you whimper in response. 

“Just a little more, honey.” He’s so close. You bob your head, though you’ve nearly gone limp in his arms.

Like last time, Joel knows it’s a bad idea, but he’s not going to pull out. The thought of deliberately coming inside you is actually what sends him over the edge, and he’s cursing and moaning your name. You whine at the feeling of him pulsing inside of you, arching back for more, even though he can tell you’re exhausted. 

It’s fucking freezing in your apartment, and yet, his skin is damp with sweat when he finally regains some awareness of his surroundings. He’s panting, you’re sniffling, a weak smile on your face as you catch your breath. Before he can stop himself, he presses his lips to your cheek. 

Joel tilts you both forward – very tentatively, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist. At some point, your hand settled over top of his, and you threaded your fingers between his own, holding his hand across your stomach. You keep it there, even after you’ve settled onto the bed.  

It takes a few minutes before either of you move, but it’s you who gives in first, wriggling out from where he’s got you trapped partially underneath him. 

You retreat to the bathroom, like you did last time. Somewhere during your coupling the linens have slid down the bed, and Joel settles back against the pillows, throwing an arm behind his head.  Now that he’s stopped sweating, he’s just cold, and he reaches to pull the bedspread over him. He should leave, he thinks, before you come out and ask him to. Beat you to the punch. Maybe while you’re still in the bathroom. 

A few minutes later, and you return from the bathroom, dressed again in sweats. He hears you pour yourself a glass of water, gulping it down. You flick off the lamp on your bedside table, and fall into bed next to him, lying rigidly on your back. He should reach out, pull you against him, let you settle in his arms. Instead, Joel rolls over on his side. 

It’s terrible how beautiful you are, he thinks, watching you stare up at the ceiling, hugging yourself. So beautiful, and fucking smart. You’re strong, too, but not as strong as he wishes you were. Of course, no one could ever be that strong.

He whispers your name. You turn your head, pupils still blown wide with lingering lust.

“You need to learn to defend yourself, to shoot a gun, to fight,” he says. “After today.”

“What?” you roll to face him. 

“You said you didn’t want to die,” Joel continues. “So you need to learn. ‘Case something like that happens again.”

“Oh yeah? Lemme guess, you’re gonna teach me?” your voice is a little hoarse after what he’d done to you, and you smirk at him.

“Yes.” It sobers you up, that he’s not fucking with you, or giving you a hard time. “I owe you, remember?” 

“You do.” 

“So…. I’ll teach you.” 

“....Okay.” 

“Alright.”

Joel rolls over to his opposite side, and you’re left staring at his back. Arms wrapped around 

himself in a tight hug, he waits for you to tell him to go.

You never do. 

Instead, he feels the heat of your body as you curl up against him, slotting one of your legs between his own. Your hand grazes up his ribs, over his bicep – a gentle, quick massage – before you tuck your arm underneath his own, your palm flat against his heart. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, frozen at how tender the embrace is. It’s a foreign feeling, he can’t remember the last time someone touched him like this. 

The tip of your nose hits the nape of his neck, and he can feel your shuddery exhale.

“I’m cold,” you say, like it’s obvious, lips brushing featherlight against his skin. “And if you’re staying, you might as well make yourself useful.”

He can’t roll over and wrap his arms around you. He can’t kiss your forehead or play with your hair or murmur into your ear. He can’t offer you anything in return. Joel decides, though, if he’s going to accept comfort from anyone, it’s going to be from you.

──────

taglist (basically if you asked for a pt 2 on the last part i tagged you): @bbyanarchist @dlwrish @imaginewrites24 @captain-yellow-96 @daisyintheskyewithdiamonds @sludgec0r33 @c0wb0ym3nace

[i-heart-hxh]

I just want to say I appreciate you for staying positive about killugon. Admittedly, I’ve given up on them. Maybe it’s too many angsty fanfics or metas I’ve seen that basically make it seem like they’ll never be close again but it’s nice to see some people still going strong with this ship! Hopefully one day I can enjoy this ship again the way I used to. Currently everything I read about them in fandom just depresses me.

Hi anon!

I'm sad to hear the negativity has gotten to you to this degree! It actually surprises me how much the fandom seems to think what happened between them can't be fixed. I've been into HxH for almost 8 years now and as time has gone on and I've revisited the series and analyzed it deeply and discussed it with others, I've only grown more certain that things between them will be okay--assuming Togashi can reach that point in the series. And right now is a great time to be hopeful about the future of HxH, with Togashi working so actively on the series the past few months.

Sooo many of the messages in my inbox amount to "Is there really hope? Are Gon and Killua really going to reunite and reconcile? Or is their relationship hopelessly broken?" so even though I feel like a bit of a broken record addressing this topic so much, it seems like it's a topic people really want addressed, so here's some more of my thoughts. (Trying to make my answers on this topic at least a little different each time even if some repetition is inevitable...!)

Here's this post I made of some of the reasons I anticipate a Gon and Killua reunion and fixing their relationship. And here's this eye-opening analysis post of the separation, yet again, which also offers hope.

So much of HxH is about second chances. It's about how love and human connections transform people and make life worth living, no matter how painful and difficult it may be. At the end of Chimera Ant Arc, Meruem and Komugi (who are, by the way, absolutely parallels for Gon and Killua) find their meaning for living in each other, and decide to stay together even knowing the only way they can be together is in the afterlife. If you trace back this scene to all the factors and character moments that made it possible, it goes all the way back to Gon extending kindness to Killua and changing his life. I believe Gon and Killua are on a path wherein they will ultimately find their meaning in each other and vow to stay together again (albeit without the dying part).

Gon and Killua are the protagonists of the series, and they are emblematic of the themes of HxH. Looking at the themes of HxH and the worldview it presents, it doesn't make sense for Gon and Killua to experience this horrible traumatic incident as the young teens they are, then never ever get to fix and resolve it even though they're both clearly upset to have to leave each other and they definitely have more to say to each other. Why show them feeling dissatisfied and unhappy to separate if they'll never get a chance to fix things and be happy together again? Do you really think that's the direction Togashi wants to go in, with the focus of the series and the repeated emphasis on how the hope we can find in a cruel, painful world rests in the connections we have with the people around us?

It's meaningful that they make each other so happy and transformed each others' lives. It's meaningful that even now in merch and artwork and such, they're portrayed as a pair. It's meaningful that a huge chunk of the audience so desperately wants to see them together again, and I'm certain Togashi is well aware of that. These two are at the heart of what makes HxH so wonderful and moving.

It's okay to take a break from the ship if it's not bringing you joy. Sometimes I get frustrated by takes and interpretations I see about it, too, trust me. Ultimately, it's here for you whenever you want to revisit it, and there are plenty of fanworks with happy endings and reconciliation between them if you need something to tide you over until canon hopefully resolves things between them. But do what feels right for yourself--it's okay to focus on something fluffier and less complex if that's what you need for now. I hope eventually you can come to see it with more hope, as I have lots of hope for their future--and I don't think it's unwarranted at all. 💖